Strays
by veiledndarkness
Summary: What’s it all worth when you’re alone? Warning: AU, Slash
1. Chapter 1

Title: Strays 1/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Pairing: Bobby/Jack

Rating: R

Summary: What's it all worth when you're alone?

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.

Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.

XX

What did he have really? On top of the world, with more money, more resources and more fucking power than a man could ask for, what did he really have? A lavish home, condos around the city, a fleet of expensive cars and a legion of workers, bodyguards and associates, each bound to him in some form or another.

And yet...

He sat at his desk, watching the snowflakes fall outside, a tumbler of Jack Daniels clasped in one hand. He scowled at the window, clusters of snowflakes frozen and clinging to the panes of glass. One of the richest, most powerful men in all of Detroit...

And he was alone.

Bobby Mercer downed the rest of his whiskey, the golden liquid scorching a path down his throat.

He was always fucking alone.

x

"...not that he's said much of anything lately, but he's a risk, that's for damn sure," Anthony Reyner shifted in his seat and exhaled, his broad shoulders tensed. "You gotta take him out..." he trailed off, swallowing hard, "I...that is, uh..."

The chair in front of the desk creaked quietly, Bobby Mercer's fingers drummed an irregular beat, and Anthony felt a bead of sweat roll down his cheek. Bobby regarded the man before him with a slight curl of disdain to his upper lip.

"You tellin' me how I oughta be runnin' things?" he lifted his gaze, his dark brown eyes hard and unflinching.

Anthony shook his head. "No, no sir, not at all, it's only...I heard things an'...an'..."

Bobby drummed his fingers slowly. Anthony looked at him, watching his roughened fingers move with abject fear. He'd heard such stories about the most feared crime lord in Detroit, the one known for his vicious temper and itchy trigger finger.

"I can get him brought in. I, I yeah, sure I can, I'll bring him by, it won't be no trouble at all," he babbled, his knee bouncing rapidly.

"Shut up, Reyner," Bobby stilled his fingers and eyed the man.

Anthony swallowed and nodded, "Yessir."

"Bring him in." Bobby never spoke loudly, preferring a quiet, chilling murmur, one that had a great effect. "I'll deal with him, an' your advice ain't needed. Clear?"

"Yeah, yeah crystal clear," Anthony resisted the urge to wipe the sweat from his face and neck.

Bobby looked away from him, a silent dismissal. Anthony nodded to him and made a fast exit, the door closing behind him with a muted thud. He exhaled loudly in the corridor, wiping at his sweat covered skin. "Damn..." he whispered.

x

"I said no," Bobby reached for the bottle on his desktop, his forehead creased with irritation. He tugged the cap off and upended the bottle, pouring a generous amount into his glass. "Can I make it any clearer for you? Do I need to draw ya a diagram?"

He tucked the phone under his chin and rolled his eyes. "I don't care how much the bribe is, you have your orders."

"Yeah, uh huh," he gripped the glass and took a long swallow, grimacing when the liquid slid down his throat. "Do it an' get back here. I got other shit to worry about right now."

He hung up the phone and gulped the rest of his whiskey. He could feel a migraine building in his temples. Bobby closed his eyes, taking slow, even breaths to try and stave off the inevitable pounding flashes inside his skull.

Another leak, he clenched his jaw. Fucking perfect. He rubbed his thumbs along his temples, willing the pain to ebb. After a moment he lifted his head, sighing.

Bobby let his mind wander as he sorted through his paperwork, his attention dwindling fast. The phone rang again, prompting a vicious flurry of mumbled swearing from him.

"What?" he snapped into the phone, clutching his aching head with one hand.

"Easy," a smooth voice came over the line. "S' me, I got my driver comin' out to pick you up in twenty. We got some shit to take care of, 'member?"

Bobby clenched his teeth. "Yeah, yeah, Jer, I remember. Evan call you yet about that punk?"

"Nah man, not yet. No worries, Evan knows better than to stiff me or you."

"Always a first time, he's on thin fucking ice with me right now, him an' Anthony both. I swear I'm gonna drop kick him into the river, he keeps this shit up."

Jerry chuckled. "Yeah, I know it. Be there in twenty, we'll get this shit done. I got Camille brought in tonight, an' I'd rather be vistin' then stayin' out on business."

A ghost of a smile flitted past Bobby's lips, one that was barely there and gone again in a flash, "Buyin' pussy won't make ya happy."

"Hey, fuck you, man; she ain't in it for the money."

Bobby snorted. "Uh huh, she'd be the first then."

"Whatever," Jerry grumbled. "Be ready to go, yeah?"

"Yeah," Bobby fumbled with his desk drawer. He yanked it open, his hand blindly searching for his bottle of pills. He tugged the bottle lid off and dry swallowed the last two pills in the container. "See ya." He hung up and poured another shot of whiskey, downing that as well.

Bobby closed his eyes once more, his stomach churning. He felt a squeeze, a flicker of longing course through him. Some nights he hated facing an empty bed when he returned home. He grimaced.

"I got no one," he whispered to his silent office. "I don't need no one."

Even to him, the words rang false and hollow.

x

The snowflakes fell faster that night, big, thick flakes that clung to Bobby's expensive wool coat. He ducked his head and stepped into the waiting car, the wave of warmth hitting him then. He sat on the seat, peeling his gloves off slowly.

Jerry sat next to him, his jaw tensed. "Sure bled out, didn't he?"

Bobby shrugged, "Yeah." He dropped the gloves into a plastic bag and sat back, screams echoing in his ears still. "He's burnin' now."

"Still gonna meet up with the Sweets t' morrow?" Jerry glanced at him, his black hat tipped back ever so slightly over his forehead. "We can reschedule, don't hafta be tomorrow."

"S'fine," Bobby took a silver flask from the inner pocket of his coat. He took a quick pull off it, a wince visible for a second. "The little one, Victor, he's one to watch. I don't trust him, not for one fucking second."

Jerry nodded. "He's got that look in his eyes, he wants what you got, an' he ain't above takin' you out."

"Let's see him try," Bobby murmured, looking out the window as the car moved, watching the scenery pass them by.

"Bobby...Look, man, you gotta do somethin' about all this. You're wound too fucking tight."

He ignored him in favor of staring out the window. The car headed downtown, turning onto the main streets. "I don't need nothin'," he said finally.

"You need to get laid, that's what you need," Jerry grinned. "Seriously, a little somethin' to take the edge right off, that'll do ya some good, you know it will."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "No." He shifted then, needing out of the car, out of the stifling heat. "Pull over," he called to the driver.

The driver nodded silently, "Yessir." He pulled off to the side of the road and switched the engine off.

"Bobby, the hell, man? Where you goin'?" Jerry stared at him.

"Out, I...I jus' need to get some air, go see Camille or somethin'. I'll call a cab," Bobby slipped out of the car and into the frigid night air.

"It's too damn cold, man! Get your dumb white ass back in here!"

Bobby walked out onto the sidewalk, merging with the crowd of people. He dimly heard Jerry call his name. He pushed further into the blur of nameless faces, a sea of unknown people around him.

x

Jack plucked at the strings on his guitar, his fingers mostly numb from the cold. A never ending parade of shoes and boots passed him on the street corner, the white snow faded to an off brown slush around him. He shivered, a gust of wind ruffling his messy hair.

A clunk caught his ear, the sound of change hitting his open guitar case. He nodded in the direction of the kind stranger. If that was a quarter, he'd have enough scraped together to get a coffee and maybe...maybe a croissant. His stomach gurgled at the thought.

Jack strummed his fingers again, his teeth clenched to keep the shivers at bay. He closed his eyes and moved his fingers faster, letting the random melody fly from him and over the crowd. A moment or so passed before he opened his eyes, a man standing off to the side, his dark eyes watching Jack intently.

He blinked and looked off to the side, a touch uncomfortable from the scrutiny. He knew damn well how scruffy he looked, that he looked like what he was, a waif, scrawny and too thin and huddled over in layers of clothes, none that fit right. He swallowed and started playing again.

The man moved closer, the crowd parting around him, it seemed. He stopped in front of Jack, his long wool coat brushing the edges of Jack's guitar case. "You take requests?" he asked in a voice pitched quite low, low enough that Jack had strain his ears over the sounds of traffic and people around them.

"Yeah," Jack glanced up at him again, his lips parting as realization kicked in. 'Oh Jesus, it couldn't possibly be...' he dropped his gaze fast, his ears burning. "Uh, yeah sure," he managed to say.

The man took a clip of money out of his inner coat pocket and peeled a twenty off. He folded it and held his hand out, the money tucked between two fingers. Jack blinked. A twenty? He took the bill quickly and stuffed it into his jeans pocket, his heart beating fast. A twenty would get him several meals, he nearly crowed with delight.

"Whatcha wanna hear?"

The man shrugged. "Play somethin' you like."

Jack licked his chapped lips and nodded. He started playing, his eyes half closed. He sang quietly, his cold body forgotten, the cement under him ignored as he played for the man, a man most people knew of and heard of, he sang louder, on some level wanting to impress the Bobby Mercer.

As the song ended, Jack exhaled, his fingers shaking a little. He stared down at the ground, his throat dry.

"You're real good, kid," the man nodded.

"Thanks..."

"You know who I am?"

Jack nodded once. "Yeah sure," he mustered up some bravado. "Who doesn't know you?"

Bobby Mercer's lips twitched with a spark of amusement in his eyes. "Who indeed," he murmured. "You know who I am, so who're you, huh?"

"Jack," he whispered, his heart pounding hard against his ribs.

"Just Jack?" Bobby raised one eyebrow.

He licked his lips again. "Yessir, just Jack, so can...can I play you somethin' else, sir?"

Bobby frowned and Jack felt a wave of fear roll through him. "Anything you wanna hear...its fine."

"You a street kid?"

"Yeah, so what?"

Bobby made that odd almost-not quite smile. "So nothin'," he said. "Listen, you ever need a place to stay, 'sides the shelters, give me a call," he took a small metal case from another pocket and withdrew a thin white card from it. He held it out to him.

Jack eyed the card and then him, hesitating. "What's that?"

"It's a card, Jack," Bobby said flatly.

He took it, holding the card gingerly. "What, you run a shelter or somethin'?"

"You could say that." Bobby pocketed the metal case and withdrew the money clip again. He peeled several bills off and crouched down a little. "Keep it in mind, yeah? It's only gonna get colder."

Jack clenched his jaw. "I'm not a fucking charity case."

Bobby shrugged. "Suit yourself, but if you change your mind, then give me a call. Here, go get somethin' warm to eat." With that, he pressed the bills into Jack's hand. "You make a great soundin' racket on that guitar; it'd be a shame to waste that."

Jack clutched the money, his chest tight with fear, anger and a prickle of shame. Bobby held his gaze for a long moment and then stood up, walking away with the crowds. Jack counted the bills, his blue eyes wide with stunned surprise. "Unreal," he breathed.

x


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Strays 2/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Pairing: Bobby/Jack

Rating: R

Summary: What's it all worth when you're alone?

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.

Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.

XX

Bobby nursed a mug of coffee the next morning, his head held in both hands, arms propped up on the desk. He breathed the fumes in, listening with half an ear as Jerry rambled on across the room. He kept his eyes closed and pictured Jack. Bobby's lips twitched at the thought.

The slight tilt of his chin, the hint of defiance and pride and anger in those wide blue eyes...

"You ain't even listenin' to me!"

Bobby opened his eyes reluctantly. "Am so, you're talkin' about Evan. And lower the voice, would ya?"

Jerry snorted. "Hung over, are we?" He sat down in the overstuffed plush chair, eyeing him, "Again?"

"Fuck you."

"I'm all fucked out right now," Jerry smiled. "Camille is somethin' else, I swear, I could marry that girl an' be a very happy man."

Bobby grimaced. "Oh Jesus, Jerry, spare me?" He took a gulp of the steaming hot black coffee. "You don't marry call girls or hookers, you jus' don't."

"You don't even know her, an' don't you dare be calling her a hooker, she ain't peddling her ass on no street corner."

Bobby gulped another mouthful of the coffee. "You pay her though."

"I take care of her! There's a difference. Maybe if you stopped drinkin' and pilling yourself every night, you'd find someone to take care of," Jerry snapped.

"Back off," Bobby set the mug down, his jaw clenched. "What I do, or don't do alone has got nothin' to do with you."

Jerry waited a beat and nodded, backing down. A riled, hung over Bobby Mercer was a dangerous thing to toy with. "Just don't let it interfere with business, yeah?" he said.

Bobby glared at him. "Does it ever?"

He shrugged. "About Evan? I'm gonna stop by an' see him later," he said, changing the subject.

Bobby drained the last of his coffee and nodded, rubbing his thumbs along his temples. "You don't need me for that," he murmured. "I got stuff to do."

"Shipments comin' in tomorrow and got the Sweets to deal with today, then Evan..."

Bobby closed his eyes again, hiding a wince. "Fuck," he whispered. "Yeah, yeah fine."

"Hey, I offered to reschedule, you didn't hafta do it today but now if we call..." Jerry trailed off. He rested his chin to one hand, his arm propped on the chair arm. "It's not gonna look so good."

"What time?"

"Two-ish," Jerry eyed him closely. "You gonna make it?"

Bobby reached down to a lower desk drawer and tugged it open. He took a small bottle out and uncapped it, taking a long swallow of the bitter drink. He wiped his mouth with one hand and nodded. "Yeah...I'm fine."

x

Jack spent the better part of an hour hesitating and fidgeting at the end of the sidewalk. He stared up at the imposing black gates in front of him, Bobby's card tucked into his palm. The house was big, and yeah, he'd been expecting something like that, but Christ...He whistled lowly. It was gated, almost completely, the tall fences disappearing behind the house as far as he could see.

He looked to the sides of the main gates, noting the cameras. "Bet those aren't for show," he whispered, keeping a careful distance away from them. He shifted his guitar case in one hand, his fingers stiff from the cold.

The gates suddenly opened, startling him. Jack gasped out a breath and pressed against the brick pillars, his heart pounding. A long, sleek car came through the parted gates, the windows heavily tinted. Jack dry swallowed, willing his heart to stop racing.

The car drove past him, dim sunlight gleaming off of it as it went down the road. Jack stuffed the card back into his pocket. "Damn it..."

"You lost?" a voice boomed nearby.

Jack flinched back another step. "No, I mean, he-he gave me a card and...and, um, never mind," he backed away from the man that stepped around the corner of the pillar from behind the gates, a man nearly as tall as himself, clad in a black jacket and knit cap.

The man eyed him. "Gave ya a card, huh? Let's see it."

"No," Jack drew himself up and pushed his shoulders back. "How do I know you won't rip it up or somethin'?"

To Jack's annoyance, the man looked amused. "You think you're tough, white boy?" he chuckled, giving him a toothy grin. "Oh yeah, you're a tough lil' thing, ain't you? Well I'll tell ya what, you show me the card so I know you ain't lyin', otherwise you got a long walk back to the city."

Jack frowned. "Fine," he grumbled and dug the card back out of his pocket. He held out the card for the man to see, the corners frayed already. "See?"

"Uh huh, I see. Found ya, did he?" the man gave him another once over, smirking a little.

"What?" Jack bristled, certain that he was being insulted. "What the hell do you mean, 'found'?"

The man turned away and dug a pass card out of his coat pocket. He slid it through a metal box attached to the gate, and the gates opened for them. "Nothin', c'mon now," he gestured to the house. "Unless you wanna stay out an' freeze."

Jack watched him for a second, hesitant and unnerved by the house that loomed ahead of them. "I...I dunno..."

The man sighed, "Jesus fuckin'..." he muttered, "Look, he gave ya the card, right? That's not somethin' bad, kid."

"I guess..." Jack gripped the handle of his guitar case and stepped forward, his thin boots crunching over the frozen snow. "He's uh...he's not here, is he?"

"Nah, but he'll be back later," the man pulled a key ring out of his pocket and selected one key, unlocking the large front doors. He pushed the door open, a blast of warmth hitting them both.

Jack bit his lip and stepped over the threshold and into Bobby Mercer's home.

x

The tension was thick on the car ride home. Jerry kept a watchful eye over Bobby. The amount of liquor that man could hold... he sighed inwardly. Bobby stared out the window, a deep frown etched into his skin. New lines had appeared, almost overnight it seemed, deepening the creases on his forehead. He looked worn, exhausted and deeply bitter.

"You want the shipment dropped off with Marshall?" he asked, if only to break the heavy silence.

"Yeah," Bobby muttered, his thumb rubbing along his forefinger, the smooth leather gloves covering his scarred knuckles. He tilted his head for a second and nodded. "Split it four ways, send them to each warehouse an' get 'em ready."

Jerry nodded absently. "Green's been sniffin' around. We might hafta move one of the warehouses, throw him off, yeah?"

"Fuckin' cops," Bobby said. "I'm not in the mood for that shit." He rubbed his thumb faster over his forefinger. "Think they're so fuckin' righteous, half the cops in this town are dirty. A little money goes a long way, don't it, Jer?"

"It does, sure does," Jerry agreed. "Listen an' don't be freakin' out when I say this..."

"Then don't bother speaking."

Jerry sighed. "You need some time off, Boss. You're runnin' on fumes."

Bobby shifted to look at him, his gaze hard. "Jerry, I swear to God, you ain't above bein' replaced."

"Don't freak, just...take a day off, ok? Or two. I can handle Evan, I can handle the shipment. Stay home, man, and sleep or fuck someone, anythin' to take the edge off."

"You lookin' to take over, huh?" Bobby snapped, his hold on his anger quickly fading, "You an' Victor Sweet, huh?"

Jerry winced. "Bobby, calm down, for God's sake. I didn't say that. You know where my loyalty lies an' you still gotta come at me like that? S' real cold, Bobby, really fucking cold."

Bobby grunted and resumed staring out the window. "Don't fuck with me an' you won't ever find yourself facin' my gun."

Several minutes of silence passed by before Jerry spoke in careful tones. "One day, one day off, think about it?"

"Fine," Bobby said in a near whisper. "One day. But if anythin' happens..."

"I'll call ya, I swear," Jerry nodded, relieved. "I'm only lookin' out for you. It ain't healthy..."

"Thanks, Doc," Bobby rolled his eyes. "That your official diagnosis?"

Jerry let out a muted chuckle. "Uh huh, take two an' call me in the morning."

Bobby tugged his gloves off and flexed his fingers, cracking his knuckles one by one. "I want a tail put on Evan, clear? Find out where this fuckin' leak started."

"Mhm, will do."

x

Jack set his guitar case down, shivering. The man closed the door behind them, locking it in several places. "Stay here," he nodded to the foyer. "Don't go wanderin', no snoopin', nothin' stupid, kid, ya hear? Or you'll find your ass back in the snow."

Jack flicked an annoyed look at him. "Who are you anyway?"

"Angel," the man shrugged his thick coat off, revealing long muscular arms clad in a tight sweater. "Stay put." With that he left, his boot steps clomping down a long hallway beside the main staircase.

"An' what a sweetie he is," Jack muttered under his breath. He tugged his scarf loose and draped it around his shoulders. He rubbed his hands together, blowing on them gently, working the stiffness out of them.

He looked around the foyer, taking in the solid wood paneling along the doorframe. Jack shook his head. The place smelled of money, sleek and understated in the way that only the truly rich understood. A faint echo caught his ear, very light footsteps coming closer.

Jack peered over his shoulder, spotting a small, wisp of a woman in the doorway twenty feet from him. She kept her gaze on the ground, a veil of dark black hair covering the sides of her face. She held a wicker basket in her arms, piled high with sheets.

He cleared his throat. The woman gasped and stopped short in the hallway, her brown eyes wide with fear. She stared at him, her mouth working soundlessly.

"Uh…hey," Jack shifted on his feet, "How you doin'?"

She took a step back, her arms shaking. In a whisper, she rambled something, in Spanish, Jack thought absently. She turned and fled the hallway, her hair streaming behind her.

Jack blinked, "Yeah…Nice to meet you too," he said.

Angel reappeared in the hallway. "That's Lucy. She don't talk much," he said, striding over to Jack. "C'mon, you can wait in his office."

"She looked fuckin' terrified," Jack muttered. He grabbed his guitar case and trudged along behind Angel. "I ain't gonna do nothing, she doesn't hafta be scared of me."

"She's scared of everything," Angel led him down the hall, passing door after door. "You'd be too if you lived through her life. In here," he opened a door finally, bringing him into Bobby's office.

"Sit," he pointed to one of the plush chairs in front of the desk. "He's gonna be here in a bit."

Jack did so, his back sinking into the soft chair. He set the case by his feet. "He do this often? Hand out cards to people?"

Angel smirked at him. "Does it matter?"

"No…" Jack picked at one of the holes in his jeans. "It's…don't you think it's…I mean, it's Bobby Mercer, man. He's like…the biggest, baddest gangster! The fuck is he doin', offerin' things?"

A chirp from Angel's phone distracted him. "He's got his reasons. You oughta be damn grateful," he pulled his phone out and fired off a quick text message.

Jack glared at him. "I don't need no one's pity, least of all from him."

"Uh huh," Angel slipped the phone back into his pocket. "Bobby Mercer, he's a lotta things, but stupid, he ain't. I'll be down the hall if ya need me, kid."

Jack nearly growled. "It's Jack!" he called as Angel left the room. "Damn it."

He hissed out a frustrated breath. "The fuck am I doin' here?" he ran a hand through his hair, "A mistake, nothin' but a damned mistake." He stood up and paced the length of the carpet, unable to sit still another minute.

Jack wandered over to the window eventually and rested his forehead to the glass panes. He watched the snow flakes drifting lazily outside. He sighed, his breath fogging the panes up. With a hint of a smile, Jack dragged his finger through the fog. He hummed as he went, mumbling the words along to the tune in his head.

"…long as I got my plastic Jesus…"

"Billy Idol sure knows his tunes."

Jack felt heat rush up his neck, color flooding his cheeks. "I…" He dropped his hand. "Um…"

Bobby closed the office door behind him, loosening the top buttons of his dress shirt with one hand. "I gotta admit to bein' surprised when Angel messaged me about you. I didn't think you'd show."

"Yeah well, the winds are colder, an' the shelters ain't too comfy," Jack stuffed his hands in his pockets and hunched more into his leather coat. He felt as shabby as all hell, standing in the ridiculously expensive home with Bobby Mercer a mere few feet away.

Bobby nodded. "Ain't that the truth," he said. He undid the cuffs to his shirt and walked over to his desk. He sat down in the chair with a muffled sigh. "If there's one thing I know for sure, it's that a cot isn't anything close to a real bed."

"You lived in shelters?" Jack blurted and then closed his eyes, embarrassed. "God, I…I'm sorry."

Bobby shrugged. "Don't worry about it." He nodded to the chairs in front of him. "Sit down, Jack."

He did so, pinned under the intensity of Bobby's gaze. "I…I don't know why I came here, but…"

"But you don't understand?" Bobby guessed.

Jack nodded. "Yeah…"

"I don't need a reason to help someone, do I?" Bobby looked almost amused, his lips curving upwards.

Jack studied him in return, taking in the furrowed forehead, as though he was frowning most of the time. Bobby's hair was slicked back, as dark as his eyes, neat facial hair lining his chin. "No, but nowadays you don't find too many people throwin' help away."

"Maybe that's the problem with the way things are now," Bobby rested his hands on the desk, "Too many people not givin' a fuck."

"Ain't it somethin' when only the gangsters help out, huh?" Jack snapped. He groaned inwardly, wishing he could take the words back. "Shit…I mean…"

Bobby's jaw clenched for a second. "I didn't force you here. I gave you an option. Door's still open if you wanna leave, Jack."

"I'm sorry," Jack looked down, more than a little unnerved, "Lettin' my mouth run again." He felt dim heat creep higher up his cheeks. "What do you want from me?"

"What do you think?"

Jack's eyes flashed, a furious burst of anger gleaming in his bright blue eyes. "I'm not a fucking prostitute!" he spat at him. "Not some whore, and no, I ain't even close to being that desperate. I'd rather starve an' freeze."

Bobby let the silence hang in the air, the almost smile appearing then. "I didn't say that," he murmured. "I don't expect sex from you, Jack."

"Call it a perk an' it's still the same thing. I don't fuck for food or shelter!" Jack stood up, his hands shaking. "I don't give a damn who you are!"

"You'd be the first one to not be afraid of me," Bobby flashed the smallest smile. "Sit down; I already said I don't expect anything sexually."

Jack sat down with an indignant huff. He fumbled with his coat and dug out a package of cigarettes. "You mind if I have one?" he asked.

"Go ahead." Bobby sat back in his chair, deeply amused by the young man. "You're very interesting."

Jack fished about for his lighter, a cigarette clamped between his lips. "That a good thing?"

Bobby nodded. "I think so. I liked hearin' you play. It was…something else. "

Jack lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, the smoke calming his rattled nerves. "Thanks."

"Look, I know you're freaked, but you don't need to be. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Jack held the cigarette between two fingers. He exhaled a quick breath and nodded. "Yeah…Yeah, I kinda figured. But…"

"But what do I want?" Bobby shifted, drumming his fingers on the desk. "I really don't know. But when I saw you playin', I had to stop an' listen. And….for one second, I wasn't thinkin', I was just listening and everything was better for that couple of minutes."

Jack licked his lips, nervous despite his bravado. "Music makes me feel the same."

Bobby nodded solemnly. "Right, so maybe that's my reason. But you know something? I'm real glad you came here."

Jack offered him a tentative smile. "Yeah…Yeah I think I am too."

XX


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Strays 3/?

Author: veiledndarkness

**Pairing: Bobby/Jack**

Rating: R

Summary: What's it all worth when you're alone?

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.

Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.

**This story will contain slash. **

x

The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, both studying each other. Jack licked his chapped lips and ducked his head a little. "So...So, what is all this, really? Like a shelter? Cause it sure doesn't seem like one."

"I wouldn't call it a shelter. More like...a place for people."

"I hate to tell ya, but a place for people, that's a shelter,' Jack cracked a grin at him. He wanted to ease the pinched look of tension from Bobby's face. "'Except, well yours doesn't look like any shelter I ever stayed in."

Bobby leaned back in his chair. "They don't all have to look the same. Look, it's gettin' kinda late in the day, so I'll make this quick before dinner. You don't hafta stay here, you're free to go if you wanna. You'll get your own room an' you'll help out around here, understood?"

Jack nodded rapidly. "Yeah, yeah that's fine."

"It's not hard work but I don't let people fuck me over. If you stay, you gotta pull your weight." Bobby took a key ring out of his pocket and held it in his palm. "There are a few people here; you'll meet them all in the next day or so. I'll warn you once an' once only about this, so listen good."

"I am listenin'," Jack picked at his ragged jeans, annoyed under his lingering fear.

"One, there's Em, she runs the kitchen. Don't piss her off," Bobby held up one finger. "She runs a fuckin' tight ship in that kitchen an' she won't hesitate to put you in your place."

"That makes her like…the female you, then?" Jack curved his lips in an almost smirk.

Bobby snorted. "Man, you don't even know how close you are. Two, is keep your distance with Lucy."

"No problem there, she took off like her ass was on fire when she saw me earlier."

Bobby frowned then. Jack tried to suppress the instinctive cringe, prickles of fear resurging. "I…I didn't do nothin', honest. She saw me and ran, I swear."

"She's afraid of most people and she doesn't speak much English," Bobby said finally. "Leave her be, you're only gonna scare her more if you try an' talk to her."

"Yessir," Jack mumbled. "Anyone else I shouldn't talk to?"

Bobby flicked the keys, a smile passing his lips briefly. "No. Just Lucy, that's all." He stood up then, pushing the chair back. "You wanna see your room?"

"Yeah," Jack stood up as well. He grabbed his guitar case and held tightly to the handle. With a bone deep weariness, he followed Bobby out of the office and down the hall. It was dizzying, the amount of doors and corners and hallways, the staircase that stretched on for miles it seemed.

Bobby took the stairs in silence, his hand lingering on the banister. "This way," he nodded, indicating the hallway.

Jack shifted his guitar case, his eyelids drooping with exhaustion. Something about the warmth in the house, Jack felt so damn sleepy. Bobby stopped in front of a door, opening it.

"This one's yours," he pushed the door open all the way. "There's a bathroom attached to this room. I figure, ya might want a little privacy."

Jack stared at the bedroom for a long minute, his eyes wide. "Seriously?" he managed to ask.

"Mhm," Bobby tucked the keys into his dress pants pocket. "Nothin' too fancy, and I don't do girlie colors so, yeah, this oughta be ok, right?"

He nodded. The room was incredible, he decided. Simple wooden furniture, soft off white carpeting and blue curtains that framed the windows, Jack blinked rapidly, certain that he was dreaming, that he'd fallen asleep on his way up the stairs.

He set the case down on the carpet and glanced at Bobby, shifting from one foot to the other. "I….If you want sometime…I could play again for you," he offered. If Bobby didn't want sex from him in exchange for living there…Jack forced a tired smile. "Any time at all."

Bobby nodded once, his face solemn, his eyes creased a little, as though he was fighting a headache. "I'd like that. Not now, you need to rest or somethin'. Em'll have dinner ready in an hour."

Jack looked to the bed. He'd bet the last quarter in his pocket that the mattress would be perfect. "Yeah, I think I'll nap or whatever until then."

"That's fine," Bobby let his gaze wander over Jack. "You think you can find the kitchen, ok?"

"I'll find it," he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Um…what, uh, that is, what should I call you?"

"What?" Bobby blinked, caught off guard.

Jack cracked another grin at him. "Well Mr. Mercer sounds so…formal, y' know?"

Bobby smiled ever so slightly and shrugged. "Just Bobby then, that's fine. Don't be callin' me Sir; I hate that, 'cept for outside the house."

"Alright…" Jack murmured. "Bobby…Thanks, for everything."

Bobby turned away, his back stiff. "Yeah, no problem," he said as he grabbed the doorknob. "Sleep, Jack. See ya later."

Jack waited until the door closed before he let out a pleased sigh. "Goddamn…" He kicked his boots and worn socks off, wiggling his toes in the plush carpet. With a grin, Jack stripped his coat and sweaters off, peeling back the layers of clothes, down to his shorts and t-shirt. He draped them all over the edge of the bed and flopped down on the blankets.

He slid under the thick blankets, reveling in the heavy warmth around him. "He's gonna have me spoiled," he mumbled drowsily, drifting off to sleep in a matter of minutes.

x

Jack yawned, one hand clasped over his mouth. He sat on the wooden chair, one long leg up to his chest with his head resting to his knee, watching Em bustle about the kitchen. She moved fast despite her size, her long braids swept neatly back into a large bun.

She looked over her shoulder at him. "Boy, you are some kind of skinny," she clucked her tongue at him. "When was the last time you ate properly, hey?"

Jack shrugged. "I had a big meal last night. He gave me a lotta money, so I went to McDonald's and ordered half the menu."

"Boy, that's not a meal!" she clasped one hand to her chest, horrified. "You sit right there an' I'll show you what a real meal is, yes, I will, you wait an' see."

Jack flashed a somewhat shy, but charming grin at her. "I bet you will."

She shook her head and grasped her wooden spoon, stirring whatever was in the pan. Jack smiled and covered another yawn. The whole kitchen smelled of spices, delicious ones that made his mouth water. It was painted in warm yellow, orange and brown colors, spacious but comfy somehow. He hugged his leg, watching her cook. She'd welcomed him within seconds of his arrival in the kitchen, fussing over him in her motherly way.

He'd napped for the better part of an hour before finding his way back downstairs. Lucy had come into the kitchen a moment later. She'd taken one look at Jack and had kept herself close to Em, her eyes studiously on the food she was helping to prepare.

"So, does he uh...y' know, eat with you guys?"

"Sometimes, sometimes yes, other times, no," Em stirred the mixture and grabbed a bottle, coaxing a few drops out. The liquid hit the pan and sizzled, releasing a fresh burst of enticing spices. "Not tonight, boss man won't be. He's got the pains t' night an' he won't be eatin' with us."

"The pains...?" Jack raised one eyebrow.

Em set the spoon to the side and wiped her fingers clean. "Pains in the head, he don't need no noise or distractions when he needs the pills, understood boy?"

Jack frowned. He had a feeling she was scolding him as well as warning him. "I'm not doin' nothin'. I'm just wondering is all."

"An' I'm tellin' ya not to be wanderin' the house and makin' noises or distractions when he's got him head pains," she nodded once to Jack. "Only make him mad, it will, so you steer clear then, yeah?"

"Yeah," Jack licked at his lips and nodded. "But, I mean, he's ok, right? It's not all the time that he has head aches?"

"Ain't no headaches, they're migraines, an' they hurt him somethin' fierce."

Em turned to Lucy and gestured to the cupboard. "Lucy girl, get the silver tray an' bowl for him," she said slowly. "Soup's ready for him."

Lucy nodded silently and went to the nearest cupboard. She pulled the silver tray out and set it on the counter, along with a bowl and a small plate. Em took the lid off one of the pots from the stove and ladled out spoonfuls of hot soup. Jack sniffed the air, his stomach rumbling. The broth smelled delicious.

Em filled the plate with small sections of sandwiches. "Put the lid on, keep it warm for him."

"Si...I...y-yes," Lucy whispered, placing the lid on.

Em nodded and patted her shoulder. "That's a girl. Si is yes, you say yes for me?"

Lucy darted a glance at Jack and then whispered a barely audible 'yes' to Em. She lifted the tray and carried it out of the kitchen, moving quickly.

Jack watched her go, his curiosity piqued. "Can you tell her that I ain't gonna hurt her?"

"Boy, there ain't nothin' I can tell her that'll make her believe that none," Em stirred the mixture once more. She held out the wooden spoon, heaped high with rice. "Come taste this."

He slipped off the chair obediently and crossed the room to her, taking the offered spoonful. "Jesus fuck, Em," he mumbled after eating the mouthful.

"Ah!" she slapped his hand with the spoon. "Don't ya be takin' the Lord's name in vain, boy!"

"Ow..." Jack rubbed his sore hand. "Sorry."

She clucked her tongue at him. "You watch what you be sayin' around here. I don't take no guff from skinny boys, clear?"

"Yes'm," Jack pouted a little.

Em smiled and pointed to the chair. "You go sit an' I'll feed ya. Worry about the boss man, later. He's gonna be fine, he will."

x

"Sir..." Lucy appeared in the doorway of Bobby's office, her gaze respectfully lowered, a silver tray grasped in her trembling hands.

Bobby looked up, the harsh lines on his face relaxing somewhat. "Lucy," he murmured. "Leave the tray on the desk."

She gave a small nod and slipped into the room, pressing the tray onto the desk blotter. "S' head hurting?" she asked in broken English.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, nodding. "Pills?"

Lucy lifted the lid off the tray and set out the plate and bowl of food for him. Bobby wrinkled his nose and looked away from the food. "Pills, Lucy," he closed his eyes, willing the pangs to fade.

She jumped, startled. "Si," she whispered, hurrying from the room. She returned a moment later, bottle in hand, her fingers shaking. She apologized in rapid Spanish, her words jumbled and frightened.

"Lucy....Lucy!" Bobby reached up and gently clasped her wrist in his rough fingers. She let out a small sound, her brown eyes wide with fear.

"Shh, it's ok," he plucked the bottle from her fingers. "Calm down, alright?"

Lucy fidgeted with the tray; her cheeks stained a light red. "Si..."

"Go help Em with dinner," he said before dry swallowing two of his pills. She nodded and fled the room. He sighed, resting his head to his hands. His migraines were getting progressively stronger.

He fumbled with one hand, hitting the speaker button and then the first speed dial. The phone on the other line rang a few times before Jerry picked up, annoyed. "This is not restin', you callin' my ass every other hour."

"Shut the fuck up," Bobby mumbled. He breathed in the smell of the foods on the tray and felt his stomach roll. "I said I'd take a day off, that doesn't mean I ain't checkin' up on you."

"Now ain't the best time."

Bobby made a face at the shiny wood desk before him. "Money spent well?"

"Don't man, don't even," Jerry very nearly growled. "Aren't you s' posed to be sleepin' or somethin'? Too early for one of your bedtime cocktails? Little booze, little sleepin' pills?"

"I can make you and your paid pussy disappear if you don't shut the fuck up!" Bobby snarled, a flash of blinding pain ricocheting through his head.

Jerry swallowed his response. "Sorry, sorry, Bobby," he smoothed his voice out in the next beat. "I'm...y' know, with her and...And...yeah. Look, go lie down, man, you're gonna end up on the floor soon if you don't sleep."

"I can't sleep," Bobby clutched his head, shaking. "I keep seein' his eyes..."

"Whose?"

"The kid's....he came here today. Angel let him in while I was with you."

Jerry hesitated for several seconds. ""What kid? Bobby...you gave out your card again, didn't you?"

Bobby sighed. "Maybe..."

"Maybe," Jerry snorted. "Maybe you ain't learned your lesson yet. Picking them offa the streets like that? Christ, the kid'll probably stab you soon as you turn your back."

Bobby closed his eyes, thinking of Jack, of how fast he'd assumed what Bobby might want from him, the spark to those perfect baby blues. "He won't, I know he won't."

"You remember what happened last time, don'tcha?"

"Night, Jerry," Bobby pressed the speaker button, ending the call. He swallowed hard, forcing his head back up in the dim room. He dragged the tray over and picked at the food, swallowing the broth with small mouthfuls.

x


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Strays 4/?

Author: veiledndarkness

**Pairing: Bobby/Jack  
**  
Rating: R

Summary: What's it all worth when you're alone?

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.

Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.

**This story will contain slash. **

X

Jack sat on the windowsill ledge of his bedroom, his legs drawn up to his chest. He rested his head to the glass windowpanes and watched the snow fall outside. He sighed quietly, his breath fogging the pane closest to him. The snow outside was piling up fast. Jack closed his eyes and sent quick thanks for the fact that this was one night he wouldn't be spending outside or crammed onto a metal cot that he was several inches too long for.

The heat in the house was constant, a steady warmth that filled every room. Jack smiled faintly, watching the flakes drift outside until the slam of a door somewhere startled him. He lifted his head, eyes wide and alert. For a long moment, Jack held his breath, waiting to see if anything was to follow.

When only silence remained, Jack crept off the ledge. He padded over to the door and opened it an inch or so, listening hard. The stillness in the air was unnerving to say the least. He frowned and opened the door further, walking down the carpeted hallway.

He passed door after door, the only sounds coming from the heating vents. Jack trailed his fingers along the wall, wandering here and there. He paused, hearing a muffled shout from the end of one hallway. Jack tilted his head. The room, the one at the far end...

He made his way to the room and stopped in front of the door. Another sound echoed, a sigh, a miserable sigh that trailed off. Jack touched his hand to the doorknob, his heart beating faster. This was Bobby's room, he was sure of it. He swallowed. Would Bobby even want Jack around this late at night?

Jack straightened his back and went for it, turning the doorknob slowly. He opened the heavy door a bit and looked inside the dark room. Bobby sat on the edge of a large bed, still dressed in his shirt and suit pants, his head clasped in his hands, his elbows pressed to his knees. His shoulders shook, his whole body shaking and trembling.

'This is such a bad fucking idea,' Jack thought absently.

Bobby lifted his head fast, glaring at him over his shoulder. His glare faded a little when he saw Jack in the doorway. "Hey," he whispered. "You ok?"

Jack nodded and closed the door behind him. "I'm fine, but you don't look ok."

Bobby waved one hand and looked down at the carpet. "Nothin' to worry about," he mumbled.

"Em told me you get migraines," Jack wandered closer to the bed, his heart thudding painfully against his rib cage. If Bobby freaked out...Jack bit his lip. It was like approaching a wounded animal, one that could lash out at any second.

"Did she?" Bobby asked through clenched teeth.

Jack nodded. He stood in front of Bobby and knelt down slowly, lowering himself to his knees. He could see the tension, the way Bobby's eyes were nearly shut and watering from the pressure in his head. "Mhm," he whispered. "Do you need anythin', a pill or somethin'?"

"Took some already."

Jack looked to the bedside table and sucked in a breath. Amidst the bottles of liquor that littered the top, several pill bottles were mixed in. Sleeping pills, migraine ones, Jack glanced back at Bobby, nervous as all hell. "Um, yeah, yeah I see that."

"Go back to bed, Jack," Bobby said, his voice an uneven rasp. "I'll be just fine once they kick in."

Jack reached up, resting his hands on Bobby's wrists. Bobby let out a startled breath. "What...what're you doin'?"

"Lie down," Jack nudged him, pushing a little. "You're puttin' too much pressure on your head like this."

"Go back to bed," Bobby said again, his arms shaking harder. "Fuckin' go."

Jack pushed again, ignoring the increasingly panicky voice in his head. "Lie down first."

Bobby glared at him. "Look kid, I appreciate the advice but I don't need it, ok? I got my pills, I'm gonna be ok. Now get the fuck out!"

Jack narrowed his eyes at him. "No," he snapped, "Stop bein' so goddamn stubborn. You like sufferin' through this, huh? Lie down before you pass out."

"Jesus," Bobby leaned back and swung his legs up onto the bed, the red flush to his skin fading a little as his head rested back on the pillows. "Are you always this annoying?"

Jack stood up and tried not to smirk, "Only when I know better." He sat on the edge of the bed beside him. "Relax ok? I ain't gonna hurt you." He reached fast, clasping Bobby's head in his hands. Despite his bravado, Jack was terribly unnerved.

Bobby stared up at him warily. "What're....what're you doin'?"

"A little trick, it helps with migraines," Jack murmured. "Breathe, ok? I'm not about to hurt the guy that's keepin' my ass off the cold ground." He rubbed his thumbs in slow circles along Bobby's temples, his fingers sliding through the surprisingly soft hair and down behind his ears, rubbing gently as well.

Bobby tensed for a moment before letting out a muted sigh. "Don't..."

"Shh," Jack rubbed slow, steady circles with his fingers and thumbs. "One of my foster moms had migraines and she used to do this to make 'em stop hurtin' so much. Eases the pressure, y' know?"

Bobby relaxed under the firm but gentle massaging, the horrid pain fading away gradually. "You got yourself some magic fingers, Jackie," he whispered, a light smile crossing his lips.

Jack grinned. He kinda liked hearing his name like that from Bobby. "S'why I'm so good on the guitar. Strong fingers, it's a necessity. "

Bobby closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Jack kept the motions up for a few more minutes before he noticed that Bobby had fallen asleep. He chuckled softly and sat back, watching him. "Poor guy...."

He looked to the various bottles and shook his head. He closed each one, tightening the caps on them. Jack grabbed one of the tumblers beside the bottle of whiskey and carried it to bathroom door on the far right side.

He rinsed the glass out thoroughly and filled it with cool water. He set the glass on the bedside table and nodded; satisfied that Bobby would have something better to drink, should he wake up any time soon. He draped the blankets over Bobby, tucking him in.

Jack paused by the door and looked back at the bed. Bobby shifted onto his side, holding the pillow in his sleep. Jack smiled. When Bobby slept, he looked ten years younger.

x

"You gotta be stirrin' the batter like this," Em moved the wooden spoon in wide stirs, molding and manipulating the batter in the large bowl before her. "Y' seein' how?"

"Honest, Em, I know how to cook," Jack said patiently. He stood next to her in the kitchen, listening to her instructions on breakfast.

Em snorted and waved one hand, bits of flour coating her fingers. "Yeah, an' I know how to fly every now an' again. You don't know how to cook my way, so you see, boy, you learn Em's way an' Em's way is the only way."

"Yes ma'am," Jack saluted her and leaned back against the counter. "Bossy lady runs the kitchen, I hear."

"You hear right," Em offered the spoon to him. "Stir, boy."

Jack took the offered spoon and grasped the bowl, stirring the batter just so. "My name's Jack, not boy."

"It don't matter who you are," Angel said as he walked into the kitchen. "Em calls evry'one boy an' girl, ain't that right, Em?" he flashed a bright grin at her.

"You smooth, boy, but no charmin's gonna get you food any faster," Em said, her face stern but for the tell tale smile curving her lips. "Go get your boss man an' see to it that he's up an' moving, boy."

Angel snagged a piece of cut up strawberry and popped it in his mouth. "Oh yes'm, I will," he grinned and brushed past her, "Anything' for you."

"That boy," Em shook her head, amused. "Here," she grabbed a bottle of cinnamon and sprinkled some into the bowl. "See here, this much an' only this much."

Jack nodded and stirred the pancake batter, mixing the cinnamon in. "How often does Bobby get those migraines?" he asked a moment later.

"Too often," Em clucked her tongue. "He gets him pains too often. No sleepin' an' too much of the strong stuff. He never take days off an' you see his eyes when he gets them pains, ain't nothin' to cure all that."

"Why though? Everyone needs downtime, right? Even guys like...well guys like him."

Em let out a quick laugh and patted Jack on the shoulder. "You wanna be the next to tell Mr. Boss Man that he needs him downtime? You go ahead, boy, see what he say."

"I will," Jack set the stirring spoon aside. Something inside, he knew then not to mention how he'd helped Bobby that night, helped him to relax enough to fall asleep. He had a feeling that Bobby wouldn't like that being spoken of.

He caught a glimpse of movement near the door. Lucy stood in the doorway, biting her lip. She darted a gaze at Jack before looking away and moving fast to Em's other side. She hung back by the fridge, whispering to Em.

"No, he's here now, you gonna have to see that, Lucy girl," Em pointed to Jack. "That boy won't hurt ya, he won't dare, ain't that right?"

Jack shook his head. "I swear, I don't hit girls, honest. An'...an' even most guys neither. Not unless they hit me first."

Lucy fidgeted with her hands, looking between Em and Jack. "No hit..." she echoed slowly, sounding the words out.

"Never."

Em rested one wide hand on Lucy's shoulder. "See, Lucy girl? He's a good boy, I can see, an' you trust Em, yeah?"

"Si...y-yes," Lucy whispered.

"Then you don't need to scurry from him. He's here like you, like us," she rubbed Lucy's shoulder gently.

Lucy flicked a glance at Jack, a hint of curiosity in her eyes at that. "Hurt...like u-us?" she asked.

Jack swallowed over the lump in his throat. He knew that look of fear, of pain and hurt. "Yeah," he managed to say without his voice breaking. "Yeah, hurt like you."

She bit her lip harder. "Hurt...We no hurt anymore," she said carefully, looking to Em for reassurance, "No here."

Em smiled proudly. "That's my Lucy girl. Not here, ain't nobody gonna be hurt anymore in this house."

Jack grabbed the spoon and turned away, his chest tight and his eyes burning. He'd heard that line many times before. "I think these are good to go, Em," he said, keeping his words light.

She leaned over, examining the bowl, "Yeah, they good to go. You warm the pan, boy," she said, nodding once to him, her eyes dark and gleaming with understanding.

Jack nodded silently. Yeah, he knew what she meant. He set the pan on the stove and turned the burner on, listening for the footsteps overhead.

x

Angel pushed the curtains back from the windows, whistling under his breath as he did so. "Damn, nearly a foot since last night."

"I figured," Bobby muttered from the bed. He sat up with slow, stiff movements. "Gonna end up snowed in sooner or later."

"I'm surprised you're up an' breathin'," Angel let the curtain fall somewhat back into place, a small beam of light pushing into the dark room. "Not even nine yet."

Bobby ran a hand over his sleep rumpled hair and winced, licking his dry lips. He reached out, searching for his glass of whiskey. He tugged the glass over and gulped it down, sputtering when he swallowed. "The fuck? Water?" He stared at the glass, bleary eyed, "Where the....what the fuck?"

"The look on your face, man," Angel snickered.

"That ain't funny," Bobby slammed the glass down hard on the table. "Don't fuckin' switch my drinks on me."

"What?" Angel's chuckles faded away, "The hell you on, Bobby? I didn't take your whiskey, I sure as fuck didn't tuck you in or give you water."

Bobby blinked a few times and then groaned, falling back against the pillows. "Jesus..."

"I don't think he does that shit backwards," Angel drawled. "I mean, yeah water into wine, but whiskey into water? No point to that."

"Shut up," Bobby growled. He covered his face with both hands, sighing. "That goddamn kid..."

Angel opened the curtains on each window, one by one, "Ahh, yeah, your little playboy in the kitchen, uh huh," he grinned, "You shoulda seen him waitin' at the gate. Poor kid look half froze to death. I let him on account of not wantin' to explain the frozen white boy to you."

"Before you ask, yes, I gave him the card, and no, I don't need any lectures."

"Well I know that," Angel cracked the window open and shivered at the cold gust of wind. "I saw the card. You think I'm gonna let jus' anyone waltz in here? Not likely. And hey, what you fuck an' who you fuck ain't my concern."

Bobby pushed the blankets back with a muffled curse. "I'm not fucking him!" he snapped, "You an' Jerry...I swear..."

"Why not? Why else would you get him to...ohhhh," Angel pressed his lips together. Laughing when Bobby was so annoyed, never high on the good idea list.

"It doesn't matter," Bobby finally said gruffly. "He's homeless, needs a place to stay an' you know as well as I do what those damned shelters are like. End of story."

Angel nodded and crossed his arms over his chest while Bobby stripped his wrinkled shirt off. "Em sent me for ya," he said. "She's got your boy makin' pancakes. He's skinny, so ya know Em's on a mission to fatten him up."

"I'm sure that'll be a torture Jack will endure with one of his fuckin' teasin' smiles," Bobby muttered. He stalked towards the bathroom and spun the taps for the shower. He stripped off and stood under the hot spray of water, eyes closed, thinking of how much better his head felt right then.

X


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Strays 5/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Pairing: Bobby/Jack

Rating: R

Summary: What's it all worth when you're alone?

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.

Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.

**This story will contain slash.**

X

"That is one big stack of pancakes," Jack eyed the plate in front of him with much disbelief. "You can't seriously expect me to eat all this."

Em pushed a bottle of syrup closer to him. "Ya better eat an' eat fast 'fore it gets cold. You nothin' but skin an' bones, boy. Eat."

"I'm not that skinny," Jack muttered. He grabbed the bottle and drizzled syrup over the stack.

"You boy, you look like a zipper been turned sideways."

Lucy let out a soft huff, an almost silent laugh at that. Em flashed a wide grin at Jack and waved her wooden spoon. "Don't make me hafta smack ya so early on this mornin'. You eat till Em say you full."

"Yes'm," Jack mumbled, mouthful of pancakes. They really were delicious. He licked his lips, holding back a groan.

Heavy footsteps echoed above them, bringing a lull to the general noise of the kitchen. "Boss man be up," Em wiped her hands on her apron. "Hopin' he slept some..."

"Oh, he slept," Angel said as he walked into the kitchen. "Got himself tucked in real nice." He flicked an amused glance at Jack, a knowing look to his eyes.

Jack glared at him and dropped his gaze to his plate; his cheeks stained a light pink by the implications of Angel's words. Angel gripped Jack's shoulder, squeezing a bit. "Yes, he even slept the whole fuckin' night. Musta been some kinda fairy magic or somethin' t' help him along....Ow!"

Em pointed one finger up at Angel. "No swearin' in this here kitchen, boy, or you gonna get another slap! An' you leave Jackie boy alone, y' hear?"

"Aw, Em, don't be so mean," Angel rubbed his sore hand.

She scowled at him. "Go eat, ya overgrown toddler."

Angel opened his mouth to protest, only to fall quiet when Bobby entered the kitchen, a frown creasing his forehead. "I...yeah, you got it, Em," he said, dodging her wooden spoon with great ease.

Jack lifted his gaze slowly, a flash of warmth rolling through him when he caught Bobby's attention. He smiled a little and broke the eye contact, returning his attention to his food. Lucy darted off to the side, almost behind Em.

"You eatin' in ya office, sir?" Em asked finally.

Bobby shook his head. "Nah, I'll stay here this mornin', Em. That pancakes, I see?"

"Yessir, the best ones to date, yeah they are. You sit an' give this a taste," she bustled about the kitchen, preparing his plate. She turned to Lucy and handed her a plate of her own. "Here Lucy girl, you sit an' eat now. I wantcha to finish at least half," she instructed her.

"Si...yes," Lucy whispered, staring at the tiled floor.

"Good, you go sit now with Jack an' eat up."

Lucy sat at the table, her shoulders hunched inwards, as if she'd rather be invisible. Jack curled his fingers around his fork, watching and absorbing the scene before him, very aware of Bobby watching him intently as Em placed the food and a large mug of coffee in front of him. Em shooed Angel over to the table after a moment, her plate in hand.

His stomach turned, flipping at the sudden feel of 'family', that they were a family, in a mixed way. He blinked and looked away, feeling very much like a stranger intruding on it all.

x

"I gotta say, you don't look so shitty today," Jerry remarked, his eyebrows twitching with amusement as he drank his coffee. "Not hung over, neither. What's the occasion?"

Bobby grunted and signed a check, his signature a blur across the line. "Fuck off."

"Still grumpy as all hell, but we can't ask for miracles, now can we?"

He shot Jerry a dirty look and set his pen down. "I'm not hung over," he muttered. "Kid got rid of my headache."

"Headaches go away with Tylenol or Advil or some shit. What you got, those aren't no fucking headaches. Those are migraines."

"Gee, really?" Bobby drawled, rolling his eyes. "The point is that my head doesn't hurt, ok?"

Jerry sipped the strong coffee, his lips curving up into a smile. "What'd he do?"

"Never mind," Bobby placed the check on the right side of his desk and reached for another, filling in the details carefully. "He fixed the headache. End of story."

"Oh c'mon, Bobby, man, you can't leave me hangin' like that," Jerry protested.

"I can an' I will. Do I ask how you fuck Camille?" he asked with a slight shudder. "God, even sayin' that…"

"So you fucked him?"

Bobby growled under his breath. "Jeremiah, you're treadin' on such thin ice."

"Is that a no?" he asked, raising one hand when Bobby's glare went up a notch, "Alright, alright…sorry. What's he like, anyway? Not like, uh, well…"

"He's nothing like _**him**_," Bobby spat, his face dark with banked fury.

Jerry waited several minutes before setting his mug down. "Look, I know you said you didn't wanna talk about…before, but I really…"

"I really don't wanna repeat myself," Bobby tugged the check loose from the book. "It's in the past and it doesn't matter."

"Yeah it does, cause you're still not over it all."

Bobby's jaw clenched. He reached for his mug and drained half of the strong, heavily sugared coffee. "It's over, ancient fucking history."

"Bobby, its ok to be hurtin', I mean Billy was-"

"One more word, Jerry, one more and I'm cuttin' you loose."

Jerry sighed. "So, you really sure about this, with…what's his name?"

"Jack," Bobby mumbled, his gaze landing on the desktop blotter.

"Jack what?"

Bobby's lips twitched, "Just Jack, or so he tells me. And yeah, I am sure."

"It's not cause he's pretty, right?" Jerry asked in careful tones, wary of pushing Bobby to the limit.

Bobby frowned. "What fucking difference does it make how he looks?"

"Cause you never pick the ugly ones," Jerry smirked.

"Fuck off," Bobby rolled his eyes and finished his coffee.

Jerry paused, staring at nothing. "Is that…do you hear that?"

Bobby looked up to the ceiling and a small smile flitted across his face. "Yeah, he plays the guitar."

Jerry laughed quietly and shook his head. "Bobby…Be careful, ok? That's all I'm gonna say. You…you can't fix what's wrong with some people."

"There's nothin' wrong with Jack!" Bobby sat back with a sigh and rubbed a hand over his face. "C'mon, let's get this goddamn shipment settled out. You sent to the warehouses, right?" he asked abruptly, signaling a clear end to the topic of conversation.

"Sure, Bobby…"

x

"C'mon, Em, you don't think he's kinda weird? I mean, weird for a skinny lil' white boy?"

"Boy, you lookin' for some smackin' or what?" Em leveled a glare at Angel. "Jackie boy ain't like...like you know what. You blind to that? Not everybody wanna hurt somebody, boy. Here," she lifted a large bag off the floor and handed it to him. "Make ya self useful an' take this to the garage."

Angel clasped the heavy bag with both hands. "Useful, she says," he rolled his eyes. "Last I checked, you don't sign my paychecks, I work for Bobby, not you."

"Maybe he do, but I know how much a' food poisonin' it'll take to bring boys like you down, cryin' for their mama's," Em smirked and lifted a second bag, walking slowly down the hall with it. "He's a good boy. I say so, an' Boss man thinks so too. Whatchu think don't matter."

"Em..." Angel sighed, following after her. "It's not that, man; we don't even know this kid. He goes an' finds them like this, only fucks him up more in the end. How many times do we gotta see it happen?"

"Angel boy, you gonna feel some kinda hurt if you don't stop the swearin'." Em dug a set of keys out of her apron pocket. She unlocked the side door from the hallway that led into the garage. With one hand she flipped the light switch, muted light flooding the room. "You don't got nothin' to be jealous over."

"Jealous?" Angel sputtered, his eyes wide. "Em, I love him, but I don't** _love_ **him! He's like a brother!"

Em snickered and set the bags alongside one of the black luxury cars. "Ahh boy, you rile so easy. No one's sayin' you wanna be in the Boss man's bed. Jus' sayin' you don't gotta be jealous cause he got someone new."

Angel gritted his teeth. "I am not jealous. I'm worried. There's a world a difference, Em!"

"Worried 'bout what? Put the bag with the other," she instructed. She selected another key from the key ring and unlocked the trunk lid of the car.

Angel placed the bag in the trunk, along with the one Em had carried. "You like it when Bobby's hurtin'? When he's miserable an' you can't go near his room cause he might have a breakdown on ya? Huh? Well, I don't! I don't know this kid an' I smell trouble comin'."

"I smell someone who needs t' relax a little," Em shot back. "Go call one o' your lil' girlfriends, go spend some time with them."

"And when he breaks Bobby's heart, Em?" Angel crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw clenched.

"_**If**_ that happens, we pick up them pieces like before," Em closed the trunk with a satisfying thud.

Angel grumbled and stalked away from her, annoyed. Em shook her head, "Stubborn asses, the lot of them."

"Em..." Lucy ducked into the garage, a basket of towels in her hands. "The washer," she said in carefully spoken words. "I...I have," she held up the basket.

Em smoothed the annoyed look from her face and nodded. "Good," she smiled. "C'mon, Lucy girl, we're gonna wash the sheets t' day too, ok?"

Lucy smiled tentatively. "Jack, he p-plays, I hear him," she tilted her head, looking up at the ceiling.

"Yeah, I seen his guitar case. I betcha he'd play somethin' for ya, if you asked him, I know he would," Em flicked the lights back off, guiding Lucy back out of the room. She locked the door behind her and dropped the keys in her pocket.

"S' music, is beauty," Lucy whispered, her smile growing wider, "I hear, I hear now."

Em led her up the stairs, rubbing at her lower back as she went. "Uh huh, I hear Jackie boy now."

Strains of the guitar being strummed floated down the hallway. Em knocked on the door with two knuckles. "Jackie?"

"S' open," Jack called.

She opened the door, Lucy a few steps behind her. "Ahh, there's that noise," she grinned.

Jack ran his thumb along the strings. "Am I bein' too loud?"

"No, no, not even a little, boy. I love the music, ya body was made to feel the music, my mama always said," Em gestured to Lucy, bringing her forward. "Lucy likes it too. How 'bout you play somethin' while I grab your clothes for a wash."

"Uh well...y' see, the thing is, Em, I don't got a lot of clothes," Jack mumbled. He ran his fingers along the strings again, his head down, "Pretty much what I got on an' the sweaters an' coat is all."

Em frowned and nodded. "I getcha a robe, you wear that an' I'll wash what you got. Boss man'll getcha what you need."

The thought of protesting crossed Jack's mind until he saw the look of stubborn determination that she wore. "Um, yeak ok," he nodded.

"Stay put, I'll getcha the robe."

Jack nodded and plucked a string, listening to the muted echo. "Lucy," he looked up at her, watching her shift and fidget with the basket. "You like the guitar, right?"

Lucy swallowed and nodded, fidgeting more. "S' the sounds...an' you play...beauty," she managed to say.

"Aw," Jack shrugged, smiling. "Thanks." He played for a few minutes, no set pattern of sounds. He closed his eyes and let his fingers wander, creating the melody as he went, lost in the moment. His fingers slowed and he ducked his head to the side, opening his eyes. "That ok?"

A shy smile lit up Lucy's face and she nodded rapidly, "Oh si, yes, so...a-again?"

"He can play after he change outta them clothes," Em said as she entered the bedroom, a long robe draped over her arm. "Ya sing any songs when you be playin', boy?"

Jack set his guitar on the bed beside him. "Yes'm, I do. I play anythin' anyone asks me to. I make more money in the summer that way."

"I s' posed as much," she held the robe out to him. "'Ere, put this on, boy, an' let me see if I can save them clothes."

He took the offered robe and headed for the attached bathroom. "Aw Em, they aren't so bad. I mean, ok, they're dirty but it ain't like I rolled in the dirt every day."

"Safety pins ain't no excuse for zippers," she called back to him. "Lord," she shook her head as she examined Jack's worn leather jacket. "This been through a beatin' or two."

Jack stuck his head out of the bathroom. "Be careful with my baby," he grinned at her. "That jacket's older than me."

"An' looks it too," she muttered. "You got stuff in here that ain't for my eyes?"

"Nothin' I'm hidin' but a switchblade in the left pocket," he emerged from the bathroom a moment later, the robe tied tightly at his waist.

Em frowned. "I know why, but that don't mean I approve, boy." She handed the small blade to him. "Ya keep that tucked away an' I won't tell Boss man where I found it."

"Hey, it's saved me more than a few times, ok? You don't last as long as me by bein' unprepared," Jack grasped the blade, the weight of it comforting and familiar in his hand. "And if he don't like it..."

Em shook her finger at him, "Easy boy, don't be gettin' riled. He don't like no weapons in here, 'cept for his own, so you best tuck that away good n' proper, understand?"

"Yeah," Jack set the switchblade on his bedside table and sat back down on the bed. "I will, no worries, Em."

"Now you play somethin' good for us," she demanded with a smile, sorting through his ragged clothes.

Jack chuckled as he picked up his guitar. "You always this bossy?" he asked. "I thought you only ran the kitchen."

She waved one hand, snorting. "Hah, that'd be the day. Mr. Boss man, he needs Em to do jus' about everythin' in this here house. Since his mama passed, he needs someone mindin' after him."

Jack blinked. "His….wait, I thought he was from the streets like me."

"What, you think he popped outta some alleyway fully grown?" Em laughed and emptied the pockets of Jack's jeans. "We all got mamas in the beginnin', don't we? Even big man like him had a mama once. His birth mama, she don't count, an' she's burnin' where it counts for what she done."

Jack swallowed over the hard lump that formed in his throat. "So…so, what happened?"

"Ain't my story to tell," Em draped the jeans over Lucy's basket. Lucy crossed herself and turned away, whispering something Jack couldn't make out. "But him mama that found him when he was a street boy, she saw the child inside, you know? Not the outside, but the inside. That's the mama who counts, Miss Evelyn Mercer, God rest her soul, yes."

"Oh," Jack whispered. He moved his fingers, breathing unevenly. He strummed the guitar, a slow, gentle tune starting, an almost lullaby.

"Sometimes, we gotta hurt for a long time 'fore the hurt starts to heal, Jackie. And him, he's hurt plenty; jus' like us, and maybe even worse, so you see what I sayin' to you?"

"Maybe," Jack hummed a little, a song without words at first. "Em, I'm not…I don't do bad stuff to people, honest."

She favored him with a warm, bright smile. "I know, Jackie, I know you a good boy. You hurtin' like him did, like him does still."

Jack breathed out and studied the plush carpet beneath his feet. He closed his eyes and played for them, lost in the moment of the song once more.

X


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Strays 6/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Pairing: Bobby/Jack

Rating: R

Summary: What's it all worth when you're alone?

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.

Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.

**This story will contain slash.**

X

With a muffled sigh of impatience, Jack ran his thumb over his lighter, palming it securely. "Y' know, I really don't need nothin'," he tried to say, only to be met by a blank look from Bobby.

"Uh huh, but meanwhile you got nothin' but rags on you," Bobby stepped into the backset of the car, the door closed behind him by the chauffeur. "Those won't keep you warm, an' you know that, so don't bother with the modesty, ok?"

Jack bit the inside of his cheek and looked out the tinted glass window. It was hot in the car, the heated leather seats sending warmth into Jack's legs, through his worn jeans. "I don't need no pity," he mumbled.

"Who said anythin' about pity?" Bobby raised one eyebrow slightly, his lips quirking. "You wanna catch pneumonia? Cause it's gonna happen if you aren't dressed right."

"Look, it's...ok, fine, so it's not pity, but Jesus..." Jack slipped the lighter to the tips of his fingers. "It's somethin' that I got no way to pay back."

"Think of this as like a fucking shelter or whatever, like you said before," Bobby settled back in his seat, his leather gloves on his lap, bundled up in his long wool coat and knit hat. "Clothin' and food and all that shit. Does that make it better?"

Jack chuckled a little. "Yeah, yeah I guess it does. I don't know any shelter that has saunas on wheels."

"Hey, I happen to like it warm," Bobby frowned at him. "You'd rather freeze?"

"I don't feel the cold," Jack shrugged, "Doesn't bother me none."

"Uh huh, but you still need a proper coat an' mitts. You're gonna freeze in that jacket."

Jack flicked an amused grin at him. "I think I kinda like havin' someone fuss after me, besides Em."

"Smartass," Bobby muttered, a small smile forming despite his mild annoyance. "An' Em will hit you if you smart off to her. I don't."

"So I noticed. She uh...she does run things pretty damn tightly."

Bobby nodded. "Yeah, yeah she does. She used to work in a shelter years ago, after her son died. Then I hired her a few years back."

Jack's smile faded away at those words. "Shit..."

"Yeah, she had it as rough as any of us." Bobby glanced at him. "You can smoke in the car if you wanna, I don't mind."

Jack opened his pack of cigarettes and slid one out, lighting it as he watched Bobby. "Thanks," he murmured, "So...so, like she lived in the shelters, too?"

Bobby drummed his fingers along his knee, nodding. "Mhm, she'll tell ya, if you ask her. She's one tough broad, but you know, she isn't even that old. Hard life makes you look older, yeah?"

Jack took a deep drag of his cigarette and looked out the window again. "Sure seems to."

A somewhat comfortable silence filled the car, the late afternoon sunshine gleaming off the snow covered roads. Jack watched the scenery pass by, the car bringing them back towards the city. He thought briefly of the day before, of playing for Em and Lucy while Bobby was away. He wrinkled his nose and tapped his cigarette over the ashtray compartment. "Bobby?"

"Hm?" Bobby blinked, startled out of his silence. "What?"

"How'd you end up runnin' the city if you were jus' some street rat like me?"

Bobby looked amused, Jack noted with some relief. "I started at the bottom an' took over, one step at a time. S' like climbin' a ladder, but only if you know how to take a few rungs down certain ways. I didn't wanna be on the streets forever, so I found a way up, an' kept goin'. Now I got the whole fucking city eatin' outta my hand, but it's not an easy ride, Jack."

"How old are you?" Jack blurted and then closed his eyes with a groan. "Fuck...I uh...never mind. Me an' my goddamn mouth..."

There was a long silence before Bobby laughed a deep rumble of laughter that made Jack's stomach flutter madly for a moment. He shook his head, his eyes crinkled and lips curved up in a wide smile.

"Easy, Jackie," Bobby chuckled. "Calm down, I ain't mad or nothin'. Christ, you're fucking adorable, man, seriously."

Jack felt heat rush up his neck, blushing clear up to his ears. "I..."

"You really wanna know? You gotta be the first one to ever ask me that." Bobby glanced at him, still grinning.

Jack nodded. His stomach was still flipping and fluttering and he felt a wild urge to lean over and press his mouth to Bobby's, to taste him and feel Bobby's lips on his. He swallowed once, his hands shaking a little. "Y-Yeah, c'mon, you can't possibly be that old," he forced a smile, a calm one.

"How old are you, Jack?" he countered.

"I asked you first," Jack flicked the cigarette and took another quick drag to steady his nerves. "That means you hafta answer, s' only polite."

"Thirty-one."

"No fuckin' way," Jack raised both his eyebrows, "For real?"

"Uh huh," Bobby nodded. "And you?"

Jack stared at the leather seat. "Um...nineteen," he mumbled.

Bobby eyed him, a peculiar look to his eyes. "Yeah, yeah I figured as much. You got a baby face; I figured you were still that young."

"Hey, I ain't that young," Jack protested. "I'll be twenty real soon."

"Uh huh an' how soon is that?"

"Um...March?"

Bobby laughed again, quieter this time. "Jackie...you're somethin' else."

"What? Five months isn't that long..." Jack fidgeted with his cigarette, "So...somethin' else in a good way or bad?"

Bobby leaned in, one hand touching Jack's cheek. Jack sucked in a started breath, his skin prickling and tingling under the light touch. He lifted his gaze, meeting Bobby's studious eyes and felt more warmth flood his skin. Bobby's fingers were warm, strong and firm. He cradled Jack's cheek with his palm, his thumb smoothing along Jack's cheekbone.

"Nothin' bad, not when it comes to you," Bobby murmured.

Jack leaned into the touch, craving the gentle, almost caress of his cheek. He closed his eyes, shivering a little. "O-Oh..." he whispered. He opened his eyes in time to see Bobby take the cigarette with its dangerously long ash and stub it out in the ashtray. Jack rubbed his fingers absently, the skin stinging a little from the burn.

Bobby smiled and brushed his thumb along Jack's chin. "You're nothin' like anyone I ever knew. An' I can tell...you're somethin' special, Jack."

"I'm nobody special," Jack leaned in more, relaxing under the light touch to his face.

Bobby shook his head and started to speak when the car stopped abruptly. Jack ducked his head and scooted back over to his seat as the door opened, his face flushed. Bobby looked to the door, a growl of annoyance echoing from him.

"Am I interupptin' anything?" a slim, well dressed man stepped into the spacious back seat of the limo and smirked at Bobby, "My apologies, looks like I did."

Bobby glared at the man, his jaw clenched. "Jeremiah, so help me, God...."

"I called but you didn't answer, so I called your driver t' stop an' get me. Reservations for dinner that ring any bells?" the man sat down and looked over at Jack.

Bobby sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, I didn't fuckin' remember, Jerry," he muttered bitterly. "Fuck....what time?"

"For eight, tonight…If you're busy now, you still got time for...whatever," Jerry looked Jack up and down, his lips twitching. "You must be Jack, that right?"

"Yeah..." Jack darted a glance at Bobby and then down at the floor of the limo. He tried not to fidget, feeling every inch the street kid he looked like.

"Jeremiah," Jerry leaned forward and offered his hand to him. "Jeremiah Williams, but you can call me Jerry if you wanna."

Jack hesitated and then leaned forward, grasping his hand, "Uh...nice to meetcha."

"Well Jack, it's nice to finally see you, I've heard your name more n' a few times the last few days."

Bobby threw a filthy glare at Jerry. "Knock it off!" he hissed.

"Um…look, it's fine, we can uh, go some other time," Jack pocketed his lighter and slipped forward on the seat, his fingers shaking. "You're busy an' all that. I'll jus' walk back to the house."

"Sit down," Bobby said sternly. "It's not even past four yet, an' you need clothes more than I need another fucking dinner with a bunch a' assholes."

A muscle twitched in Jack's cheek. "Yeah, sure…" He stared out the window, lips pressed together in a thin line.

Jerry sat back in his seat, looking at each man for a minute before clearing his throat, "So, Jack, you from Detroit originally?"

"What difference does it make?" Bobby snapped.

"Guess so," Jack shrugged. "I don't know much about where I was 'fore they chucked me into the system. No one ever told me all that much."

Jerry ran his fingers over his chin, stroking his neatly trimmed goatee. "Yeah, I know the feelin'. I never even knew my birth mama."

Jack shifted again, uncomfortable on a new level from the scrutiny of Jerry. It felt like Jerry knew exactly what had been about to happen a few minutes before. There was a knowing look in his eyes, a gleam of knowledge that made his skin crawl.

"Stop buggin' him," Bobby's voice was nothing short of a demand.

Jerry nodded once. "S' not buggin', I'm only bein' polite, ain't that right, Jack?" He held Jack's gaze. "Helps to get to know people, see what they're all about."

Jack ran his thumb over his lighter inside his pocket. "Ask away," he said, his chin lifting with a hint of defiance.

"I said no," Bobby spat. "Knock it the fuck off or you're walkin', Jerry."

Jerry gave Jack a polite grin but underneath that, Jack tensed, underneath the grin was a calculating sneer. He bristled, understanding then. Jerry...he was no different than Angel, Jack fumed silently to himself. Everyone expected the worst from him.

"Yessir, Bobby," Jerry nodded and relaxed into his seat, satisfied for the moment, "You up for dealin' with some shit with Evan tomorrow? He's gotta lil' somethin' for business."

Bobby grunted and stared out the window for several minutes, his smile long gone, "Yeah."

X

"No more, man," Jack pleaded an hour and a half into his shopping trip. He opened the door to his change room and poked his head out, searching for Bobby amidst the piles of clothes. "Even a chick would cave by now."

Bobby passed him a sweater with a roll of his eyes. "Look, I already caved an' let you drag me into stores like…this," he huffed. "The least you can do is stop bitchin', ya brat."

Jack stuck his tongue out at him. "Fuck off; you're not the one playin' Barbie in here, ok?"

He pushed the sweater into Jack's hand. "You wanna run 'round Detroit with nothin' on?"

"Maybe I do," Jack took the sweater and heaved a sigh. "Draggin' my ass around like this…" He tugged the sweater on, rubbing his fingers along the perfectly worn material. "Yeah, yeah this one's good."

"You sure you don't wanna go to a mall or somethin'? This place is….it's…I can afford nice stuff, Jack."

Jack snickered quietly and pulled the sweater back off. He handed it to Bobby to be added to the cart. "I don't like fancy clothes. I like this kinda stuff. And second hand is better, cause it's already got that worn in look goin' for it. This way you won't waste your money on clothes, yeah?"

Bobby sighed. "It's not a waste." He eyed the overflowing cart, grateful that at least Jack wasn't objecting to how much he was buying. He'd been less than amused by the idea of shopping in a second hand store for clothing but Jack had flat out refused to buy his clothes from any mall or department store. "You need a proper winter coat though, none of this shit, got it?"

"Uh huh," Jack emerged from the change room with a handful of clothes. He placed them on top of the cart and nodded, satisfied. "My leather coat keeps me plenty warm."

"This ain't up for discussion. You need a good one, I know someone who makes damn good ones."

Jack strolled along the aisle, pushing the cart as he went. He grinned a little and shook his head. "Nope, my coat is fine." He snagged a thick, black and grey scarf from one of the racks and added it to the pile. "Stop fussin' so much. I'm fine, Bobby, honest."

Bobby followed along behind him, muttering to himself. "Teasin', charming grins…"

"Here," Jack tugged a scarf loose from another rack. He draped the muted red scarf over Bobby's shoulders. "There, that'll help. Don't wantcha gettin' cold; it'll only start off a bitch of a migraine."

Bobby stared at him and then down at the scarf. He touched the material with two fingers, surprised by the warmth it gave off. Jack looped the scarf a bit, fussing with it until it hung just so on Bobby. "Perfect."

"Thanks…" Bobby mumbled, his eyes following Jack's fingers, remembering the way he'd massaged his temples so gently not that long ago.

Jack flashed a wide smile at him and shrugged, "No worries besides it looks good on you too." With that, he turned away, leaving Bobby watching after him, touched by the simple gesture.

XX


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Strays 7/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Pairing: Bobby/Jack

Rating: R

Summary: What's it all worth when you're alone?

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.

Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.

XX

"Em, can I ask you a question?"

"That you can, but whatchu askin' might not be so easy t' answer, boy," Em looked over at Jack, a sharp knife clasped between her fingers. She stood over a cutting board nearly as wide as her, a pile of fish in the process of being sliced and diced for the evening meal. "You know what they say about kitty cats an' curiousness, don'tcha?"

Jack grinned and shrugged. "I got a few lives to spare." He shifted closer to her and grabbed a peeler off the counter. "Here, I'll peel, you answer an' slice, deal?"

"Sass mouth," Em said, though she smiled. "Wash them hands first, boy."

Jack did as she demanded, scrubbing his nails with care. "Bobby took me out for clothes today. I had to put up a stink about them though. Em, you shoulda seen the places he wanted to take! Unreal. Who dresses like that? I sure don't, 'specially if I'm not gonna work in some fancy office or...or do what he does, y' know?"

"Boss man likes to show he got the cash now, money talks an' people like money," Em nodded. "Yessir, he dresses to them nines cause he can."

"So I got him to agree to the second hand store," Jack wiped his clean, wet hands on his hooded sweater. "The look on his face, priceless, I swear. I don't need fancy clothes. Fancy don't keep you warm." He picked up the peeler and reached for the carrots that lay off to the side.

Em laughed and shook her head. "Boy, you somethin' else. 'Nough beatin' round the bush. Whatchu wanna know?"

Jack bit his lip, regretting his impulsive question earlier. "I...Ok, it sounds kinda dumb..."

"Ain't no such thing as dumb questions, only dumb people who don't use them brains."

"Uh, right. I was wonderin', what's...what's with Angel an' that guy, Jerry? They're both like...waitin' for me to whip a shot out or something. I don't think I'm much of a threat exactly."

Em set her knife off to the side, reaching for the next fillet. "It ain't that you a threat, it's..." she blew out a breath, "This ain't for me to say, boy. Ain't my story."

"Aw c'mon, Em," Jack pleaded. "I've only been here a few days, an' they're treatin' me like...like a fuckin' virus, like I'm gonna hurt him! Jesus...he runs this city, like I'm really gonna be that stupid?"

Em glared up at Jack. "Boy, this is your one an' only warnin' t' night. No swearin' and no takin' the Lord's name."

"Sorry," Jack nodded quickly. "But please? Did...what happened before? I swear, whatever it is, I'm not some bad guy....just a street rat."

"Hush boy," Em gentled her voice and resumed slicing the fish fillets. "What I'm gonna tell you ain't for no one else to know, clear?"

"Yeah, for sure. Who have I got to tell anyway?"

Em clucked her tongue. "Things have them way of gettin' out." She sighed and slid the blade in smoothly, the fillet separating as she spoke. "Boss man...he don't care much for the ladies. Only woman he ever loved, that'd be his Ma, Miss Evelyn. Never saw him happy with any lady."

"He's into guys then?" Jack guessed.

"Don't be interupptin', or I'll tell ya nothin' a' tall."

Jack hid a grin and scraped the peeler along the carrot. "Sorry."

"What he wants an' does in his bedroom ain't got nothin' to do with me but what does happen is that sometimes, Boss man, he forgets that not everybody in the world is good. An' some people wanna use an' abuse people with power an' money."

"But...I heard so many things...people killed off, the stuff he's done..."

Em shrugged. "S' way the life goes. He ain't never killed somebody innocent, I tell ya that much. You can go through life with rosy glasses, an' hide the bad away, but the bad happens ev'ry day, boy. People, they don't see the bad till it lands on them front steps, an' then its right there and there ain't no hidin' from it. S' ugly world sometimes, and sometimes bad things happen t' the people who don't deserve none of it."

Jack swallowed over the lump in his throat. "Yeah...Yeah, I know that."

She set the pile of fish to the side and washed her hands before turning the heat on under a large pan on the stove. For several minutes, Jack was certain that she would say no more until he heard a whispery sigh from her.

"Boss man, he...you ain't the first he's brought home. He likes helpin' people, he helps them find a way offa the streets an' sets them straight. Some work for him in different places, some leave an' no answer comes back, an' some of us stay on cause we fit better here."

She added the fish to the warmed pan slowly, her gaze firmly fixed on the food. "He been hurt a few times too. They use an' use and run when the time is up an' it hurts him somethin' fierce. Last boy...he caused trouble from the start."

Jack set the peeler down, his heart beginning to beat faster. "What happened?"

"The boy, he came in so angry, full o' hate an' anger, I never saw nobody with so much hate in them," she shook her head solemnly. "Like the Devil himself inside that boy. Boss man tried, oh how he tried to help him. An'...an' I swear, the boy realized jus' what the Boss was like. He used it...used it against him. Twisted the help and...Things happened in that bedroom," she pressed her lips firmly together. "He was a bad seed."

Jack shivered. "They tried to warn him. Angel...Jerry too, didn't they?"

"Boss man didn't wanna hear none of it. Blinded by a pretty boy, one who had him a bad soul. Never cared for the smirk on him face when I put food down. Oh he was clever, too clever. Had Boss man so tight on his finger, that boy did." Em stirred the fish with practiced movements, a deep frown on her lined face, the corners of her mouth turned down.

"Till one day, Boss man came back after business. Boy was gone. He stole whatever wasn't locked up in Boss man's office. Money, them guns," she said, her voice thicker with banked anger. "Stuck the blade right in Boss man's back when he saw what the boy did, saw love that was false."

Jack nodded once and peeled at the carrots, alternately furious and saddened for Bobby. "They think I'm gonna do that, huh? Steal from him, hurt him like that?"

"Happened before, can't never be too careful."

"Well I'm not like...like that! I wouldn't do that," Jack snapped, angry tears forming in his eyes. "I wish everyone would stop assumin' shit about me! You don't know me, none of you do!"

Em frowned and looked up at him. "Shh, boy, calm down, Jackie. S' alright, ok? I'm only tellin' ya what happened an' why they be suspicious of ya. We know Boss man, we don't want him hurtin' like before."

Jack tossed the peeler onto the counter. "Yeah, yeah I get it, ok? I...Fuck, this was a mistake to even come here!" he shouted as he stormed from the kitchen.

He ran blindly for the stairs, raging inwardly at the unfairness of it all. Jack slammed the bedroom door open and searched for his jacket. He threw another sweater on, layering up his clothes as fast as he could. He stopped long enough to grab his guitar case and made his way back downstairs.

Jack was halfway down the snow covered walkway when he saw the now familiar car pulling up to the fences in the distance. Jack kept his head down, the wind biting at his cheeks. He swore under his breath, having forgotten his new scarf, gloves and hat. He winced, the car nearing him.

He moved through the thick snow, shaking a little. The car paused near him then, the window sliding down smoothly to reveal Bobby in the backseat, a deep frown marring his forehead.

"This isn't the best weather for a stroll, Jack."

"I..." Jack turned his head to the side. "I gotta go."

Bobby said nothing for a long moment. "Did somethin' happen?"

"No, yeah, I-I mean, thanks but this...this isn't for me, and...And I don't belong here," Jack sniffed once, a tear slipping down his cheek. "Thanks for...for the clothes an' for lettin' me stay. I appreciate it."

"Jack..." there was fast growing alarm in Bobby's voice then, enough for Jack to lift his head to meet his gaze.

"Don't ok? Just...save yourself the fucking problems. You don't need guys like me in your life an'...and this way you can..." Jack shook his head and took a step back. "I gotta go."

The door to the car opened and Bobby was out and into the snow in a split second. The snow around his legs, ignored, Bobby grasped Jack's arm, holding tightly to his wrist. "Jack, don't, whatever happened, man, we can talk about it or somethin', and you don't need to run like this."

Jack hitched in a breath and tugged his arm a little. "Please...please...I never wanted t' hurt you, not like that guy did. I-I'm sorry...I...I need to go."

Bobby stilled, his eyes blank for a moment. "Who told you about Billy?"

"Not important," Jack tugged his arm loose and turned away. "They never even gave me a fuckin' chance! I'm not like him, I'm me, Jack, only Jack, a goddamn stray!"

Bobby stood in the snow, a pained look to his face. "You're not a stray," he whispered, the words barely audible over the blowing wind.

"I am a stray!" Jack wheeled about and dropped his guitar case to the ground, eyes wide and wet and furious. "I am and you are! All of us were and no one ever gave a damn. I'm not some fucking project for you; I'm a fucking stray that caught your interest!"

"I wanted to help cause I know how fucking much it hurts not to have anyone give a damn!" Bobby snapped, his temper rising fast. "And maybe I will end up stabbed in the fucking back again! Maybe you'll be the one to shove the blade in, but it's my damned risk to take, and you're not some stray offa the street. You're Jack and I want you just like this!" He reached up and fisted one gloved hand in Jack's coat, yanking him closer, closing the inches in height between them.

Jack made a soft sound in his throat, frightened and overwhelmingly aware of Bobby's scent carried on the wind, of the feel of Bobby's lips pressed to Jack's, a demanding kiss that made his skin tingle, one that left him dizzy.

Bobby gentled the kiss after a moment, his hand moving up and into Jack's messy hair, Jack's lips parting under his. Jack let out a startled moan and backed away from him, his face flushed. "I...Bobby..."

"Don't...don't go like this," Bobby whispered, "Not like this."

"I'm not like him, I wouldn't do that," Jack managed to say, his chest hitching slightly. "Never..."

Bobby nodded. He smiled sadly. "I know you won't. I knew it when you took the card. Come back inside, you're gonna get sick, Jackie."

Jack sighed. He touched one hand to his lips, a light blush staining his cheeks. "I like it when you call me that," he murmured.

"I'll call you that till your ears fall off but only if you come inside. You belong with us, with me," Bobby cupped Jack's cold cheek, brushing a kiss over his lips.

Jack pressed against him, sighing into the kiss. He nodded once and picked up his guitar case, following Bobby obediently into the warmth of the waiting car.

X

Jack sat on the floor of Bobby's bedroom, his guitar on his lap. He leaned back against the bed, watching Bobby pace nearby. Bobby ran a hand through his hair distractedly, his tie hanging in disarray around his neck.

"…No, I need tomorrow off, you do the meetin's tomorrow," he barked into his cell phone, "Yeah, uh huh. Hilarious, Jer, fucking hysterical."

Jack raised his knees, running his thumb along the strings. Bobby turned to face him, his frown easing at the muted sounds. Jack smiled a little and began playing in earnest, the quiet melody falling from his fingers.

"I gotta go," Bobby mumbled. He hung up his cell phone and wandered over to the bed, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs. "Play me somethin'?"

"Sit down first," Jack slowed his fingers. "You need to get outta that monkey suit. No relaxin' comes from dressin' like that."

Bobby sat on the edge of the bed and loosened his tie more. He tugged the silk tie off and dropped it on the bed, making quick work of the small buttons to his shirt. Jack hummed under his breath, listening to the rustling of layers removed. He'd stripped a few layers off himself not long after he'd been brought back to the house. It was simply too warm for layers indoors.

"How come you came back so early?"

Bobby grunted. "I hate those fancy dinners. It's boring as all hell an' the people are fucking tools. I stayed long enough to not cause any shit. Jerry can handle it anyway."

Jack tilted his head to look up at him, a curving grin on his face. "Is it bad that I'm kinda happy you came back early?"

"Nah," Bobby leaned down and smoothed his fingers through Jack's hair, touching the soft strands. "Makes me feel like maybe there was a damned good reason to come home, you know?"

Jack pushed up and tugged Bobby down closer to him, stealing a quick kiss. "That's the nicest thing anyone ever said to me," he said, releasing him a moment later.

Bobby shifted down to sit next to him on the plush carpet. "Yeah well don't spread that, huh? I got a rep to maintain, Jackie. Now play somethin' nice huh? I got a bitch of a headache."

X

"He left early?"

"Yessir, left before the main course was finished, in fact…"

"Did he go home?"

"Yessir."

"Fucker…You keep an eye on him, I wanna know what he's doin', who he's fuckin', y' hear me?"

"Yeah."

"I ain't playin' no more. It's time for Bobby Mercer to step the fuck down."

XX


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Strays 8/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Pairing: Bobby/Jack

Rating: R

Summary: What's it all worth when you're alone?

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.

Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.

XX

Bobby awoke in the morning, curled up on his side, his legs tangled in his sheets. He lifted his head cautiously, awaiting the usual pangs that followed his night time cocktails of alcohol and sleeping pills. When none occurred, he blinked and scrubbed at his face with one hand. "I'll be damned," he whispered hoarsely.

He peeled the layers of sheets and blankets back, disappointment following.

No sign of Jack. He sighed. "Can't get it all..."

Bobby shifted off the bed, stretching slowly. Jack's empty package of cigarettes lay on the nightstand, tangible proof that he had been there. He ran his fingers through his sleep mussed hair, smoothing the strands back from his forehead. Jack had played for him for several hours the night before, the two of them speaking little, but comforted, calmed even. He frowned. Did Jack even like playing at his command?

He wandered from his bedroom to the attached bathroom, yawning as he moved through the motions of his shower on automatic. He thought of Jack, of the look on his face when he'd caught him fleeing the house, the guilt in the young boy's eyes, the flush of anger and frustration...

He reached for the soap and lathered his hands, a scowl flitting across his face. Billy...A quick shiver ran through him at the memory. Bobby gritted his teeth. In the moments of his greatest anger, he longed to wrap his hands around Billy's neck and throttle him, to see the life seep away from those perfect blue eyes, eyes that mocked him every time he looked at Jack.

The resemblance was uncanny for sure, Billy...Billy had more weight on him than Jack and a perpetual sneer or smirk was worn, curling his lips up in disdain for everything and everyone around him. Bobby closed his eyes and leaned against the tiles, letting the water wash the soap from his skin. He'd made the mistake of loving Billy, of letting him get too close and what had he to show for it long after the raw ache of betrayal had faded?

"Nothin'," he muttered, his voice lost in the water rushing over head.

X

Jack sat on the windowsill in his room for quite some time, wrapped in the heavy blanket from the bed. He rested his head to the wood paneling behind him, messy hair covering his eyes. He drifted in and out of sleep as the snow piled up outside the window, flakes pelting the glass and freezing in place.

"Boy, you still be breathin' in here?" Em's voice broke through the drowse, chasing his sleep away.

He shifted slightly, his eyes shielded still by his hair. "Yeah..."

"Thank d' Lord for that, then. Ya tryin' t' give ol' Em a heart attack, boy? Ya miss breakfast an' lunch, an' ya got no meat t' spare on them ribs," Em fussed over him. She tugged the blanket down a bit and pressed her wide wrist to his forehead, "Mmhm, no burnin', ya sick or hung over?"

Jack pulled back from her touch. "Don't do that!" he snapped. "The hell do you care anyway? Shouldn't you be more worried about what I'm plottin' to do to your precious Boss Man?"

"Don't ya sass me, boy, or ya'll feel a slap upside ya fool head," Em bristled, her eyes flashing a warning. "Grown boy, ya are, but not too grown t' feel a smack. Knock off them pity feelin's an' come eat."

Jack sat up, infuriated. "I'd like to see you try! I don't need this shit! The only reason I'm even still here is cause of him, ok? I don't care, I don't! He's the only one in this fuckin' place that hasn't treated me like I'm a fuckin' disease!"

Em grasped Jack's chin, gripping him tightly with fingers seemingly made of steel. Jack squirmed, staring at the floor; his cheeks flushed red with anger.

"Boy," she said gently. "I don't be thinkin' like that 'bout ya. I see ya good, I know good when I see it. Ya wanted t' know why we try an' protect him. I told ya why, it don't mean I think you bad. Shhh now...nothin' t' be upset over."

He bit his tongue, keeping the hateful words back. He wanted to scream and lash out at her, empty his frustrations and anger at the unfairness of it all. "Don't even know this Billy guy...don't none of you realize that?" he managed to whisper a moment later. "He ain't me, I ain't him."

"Ya do look an awful lot like the other boy," Em relaxed her grip, her fingers touching his hair and smoothing it back from his sweaty forehead. "Same eyes, you coulda been brothers, Jackie. But ya got somethin' him never will have."

"I haven't got shit," Jack muttered wearily, "Ain't got nothin' to offer."

Em tilted Jack's chin up, lifting his gaze to meet hers. "Ya got love inside ya. You a good boy, Jackie, s' all him needs. We worry; don't want him hurtin' no more. Sorry if'n I hurt ya, never wanted t', jus' wantcha t' know what happened an' why we be suspicious."

He nodded, blinking back the prickle of unwanted tears. Em smiled then, brushing more of his hair back from his face. "Forgive me, boy. I like ya, truly do. Ya see that, do ya?"

Jack leaned against her, reveling in the motherly gestures. "Sure," he whispered. "Sure I do."

"Then you come on downstairs an' eat up. Don't want ya wastin' away up here. 'Sides, Lucy girl's some kinda frightened that you gonna leave. Need t' convince her you ain't, ok?"

He sniffed quietly. "Yeah? Why's she so upset?"

"She likin' the music you make. You be the first man 'sides Boss man that she ain't terrified of."

"I guess that's reason enough," Jack looked up at Em and smiled a little. "You really gonna smack me around if I piss you off?"

"Damn right, boy. An' wash ya tongue if'n I hear more swears."

X

"Where in the hell did you disappear to, man? I had to cover for you," Jerry sat down across from Bobby in his office, his fingers tapping at the expensive upholstery in an irritated beat. "You can't just waltz outta dinners like that whenever your dick twitches for your street kid."

Bobby flipped a paper over and scribbled his signature across the bottom of the form. "Like fuck I can't. None of them have the balls to tell me what to do," he flicked an annoyed glance at Jerry. "An' maybe you got the balls, but no fucking smarts apparently."

"Look, ok, pretty boy has your attention but we got more important shit to focus on."

Bobby scowled at him. "We ain't _fucking_, not that it's any of your business, Jeremiah."

"Maybe not yet, but what you do an' don't do affects my business an' yours!" Jerry clenched his teeth and looked to the side, sighing. "You're hardly payin' attention, and did you even hear what Scottsen was telling you, Bobby?"

"....Scottsen...the fat guy with the overbite? Yeah, I heard him; I think half the fucking room heard him."

"I'm serious, Bobby!" Jerry smacked his hand off the chair, Bobby's legendary temper be damned. "This is important! More important than any piece of ass! That little shit may have charmed the fuck out of you but I will _not_ sit by an' deal with this again. Last time...last time was too close to the edge..." He trailed off, swallowing at the look of pure fury in Bobby's eyes.

Bobby sat back in his chair slowly, his dark eyes flashing a storm of emotions, each one more furious than the last. "I'm gonna forget I heard you say that, an' you oughta be thankful I'm going to, cause if you were anyone, _anyone _else, I'd take my time pulling your motherfucking tongue outta your mouth," he spoke quietly, heavy venom in his words. "I'm the boss, I'm runnin' this show and if you don't like the way I'm runnin' shit, don't let that door hit your ass on the way out, Jeremiah."

"It's not..." Jerry started to protest.

"No, I'll tell you what it's not," Bobby rested his fingers to the arms of his chair, his forehead furrowed. "It's not your business when it comes to who's in my house. I run this city, Jerry, not you. You got a problem, then you best speak the fuck up right now."

Jerry sat up straighter and nodded, a strained smile curving his lips. "Uh huh, so that's how it is now? After all these years, you gonna come at me and point your itchy finger at me? I'm the best fucking backup you got, Mercer. If people like me or your mama didn't step up, you'd be strung out on some corner, suckin' and fuckin' like all them boys you love so much, so don't you point at me an' think you don't need me. You're wrong, Bobby, dead wrong. You need me to keep your fucking head on straight. Ain't nobody else can put up with your shit the way I can!"

There was a flicker in Bobby's cheek, a muscle that twitched. Jerry sat back, sweat trickling along his hairline. For several minutes, nothing was said, a thick, cloying air of silence throughout the room. Bobby reached with one hand for his desk drawer, his fingers disappearing inside, and Jerry felt a cold wave wash over him.

'He's goin' for the gun, he's gonna...Oh Jesus...' he swallowed hard over a lump in his throat that made his eyes burn. He stared back at Bobby, forcing a calm face. "Bobby, I..."

Bobby tugged a folder loose from the drawer and dropped it on his desk with a thud.

"This is yours," he said, his voice uneven. "Take it and get out."

"Don't man, don't do this," Jerry cringed inwardly, hating the pleading tone of his voice.

"Papers for your accounts, your details, take it before I change my mind." Bobby pushed the file closer to the edge of the desk. "Get out or I'll have Angel take you out."

Jerry stood up, his hands shaking. "You think you can cut me loose like that? You gonna turn your back on damn near fourteen years of runnin' these streets?"

Bobby looked up at him, his expression cold and calm. "Fourteen years is nothin' when there's no respect for the boss. Get out."

"And who's gonna run all the million fucking details I take care of every week, huh?"

With a bitter smile, Bobby shrugged. "Ain't your problem no more, is it? And maybe it's time for some changes. Don't worry; you got enough money to keep your bitch with you a bit longer."

Jerry snagged the folder furiously and turned to leave. He shook his head and looked back at him. "You're makin' a big mistake, Bobby, a huge mistake."

Bobby raised one pointed eyebrow ever so slightly. "Am I? Is that a threat, Jeremiah?"

"Nah, nah man, no threat," Jerry muttered, "Just the truth." With that, he left, the door slamming shut behind him.

Bobby slipped out of his chair and stared out the window of his office, pain radiating along his neck, head and shoulders. He closed his eyes, his head pulsing with each heartbeat. "Fuck," he whispered.

X


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Strays 9/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Pairing: Bobby/Jack

Rating: R

Summary: What's it all worth when you're alone?

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.

Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.

X

"You be a damned fool, if'n ya don't mind me sayin' so," Em looked over her shoulder to frown disapprovingly at Bobby. "Him one of ya oldest friends an' that how you treat him? Like he got dragged in offa ya boot?"

Bobby clenched his teeth and studied the pattern on the half empty plate before him. "I do mind, in fact," he stabbed his fork into the perfectly cooked bacon. "I mind a lot seein' as you work for me, Em. I don't need no approvals from you on who I hire or fire."

"Oh ho, listen to him now," she waved her spatula at the table, her dark eyes wide. "You be the Boss man, yessir, but ya don't wanna be bitin' offa ya nose t' spite ya face. You hear him, Jackie boy? Nonsense an' no food but the drink, it goes to his head!"

Jack snickered quietly and darted a glance at Bobby, amused by the irritation on his face. "Bet no one else gets to talk to ya like she does," he whispered.

"They wouldn't dare." Bobby pushed the food about on his plate. "Em, seriously, it's not even nine in the morning. Give it a rest, huh? It's not like I had him drawn and quartered for fuck's sake."

She whipped around, gesturing with her spatula. "Don't be over steppin' ya ground with me, boy! I know who pays me but you watch that filthy mouth in this here kitchen! Nobody be cussin' and speakin' badly in here or I walk, Boss man."

Bobby frowned deeply. "Em, Em, c'mon, don't be like that. I'm sorry, ok? I'm sorry, honest."

She lowered the spatula, somewhat mollified. "Love all ya as ifn' you be my own, but I don't wanna hear such things. 'Nough bad things outside this home, we don't be needin' it inside, Bobby."

"I know," he soothed. "I'm sorry, I promise, I'll watch the language."

Jack watched them, intrigued by how fast Bobby switched on the charm, how the lines on his face smoothed out as he calmed Em's ruffled feathers with a few wisely chosen words. He crunched on his piece of bacon, thinking it over. Em treated Bobby as a boss in some ways, but in others, a well loved though thoroughly naughty child that she had to scold every so often. For a moment, he wondered if the legendary Evelyn Mercer had been the same.

"Here, eat up boy, you startin' to look like Jackie boy," Em chided him as she placed a stack of pancakes in front of Bobby. "Pair of ya boys lookin' like zippers, it ain't healthy, no way. Ah ah, don't be protestin', ya jus' eat up."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Hey, I am eating," he held up his empty plate. "See?"

"Good boy, knew that ya would," Em beamed a happy smile at him and Jack felt a tendril of happiness curl contently in his stomach.

"Have some pancakes an' I'll letcha be for awhile, Jackie," she patted his messy hair lovingly and moved back over to the stove, humming under her breath.

Bobby licked a drop of syrup from his lip, his gaze catching Jack's. "You tired of being inside most of the time?"

Jack shrugged again. "I dunno. I kinda like not havin' to sit out in the cold all day long, but I do get a bit bored. Why?"

"You wanna come with me to my downtown office? I got some things to do before the holiday, and a bunch of errands to run seein' as I don't have an assistant for that any more."

Jack blinked and peered at him through his fringe of hair. "Seriously? You want me to come with you?"

"Sure," Bobby nodded, a bit of heat to his eyes. "I want you with me."

Jack felt a rush of warmth crawl up his neck, up to his cheeks. "I, uh yeah, yeah sure," he managed to get out.

"Good," with that, Bobby dug into his pancakes and tipped a slight wink at Jack.

X

Jack fidgeted with his lighter in the car, his thumb smoothing the edges of the container again and again. "What'd you have in mind today?" he asked eventually, turning away from watching the snow covered fields pass by. "I can be real quiet if ya got paperwork or whatever."

"I do have some papers to go through, but nothin' major till after the holidays. Shipments are arranged; I got people to take care of that stuff." Bobby sat back in his seat, his leather gloves creaking quietly. "I got some donations to run down, people to meet, but God willin', we should be home by six or so."

"Donations?" Curiosity pricked again and Jack glanced at him. "What kind?"

Bobby smiled faintly. "Shelters always need food and clothes. I got a collection run up with the charities and I'm droppin' it all off today. Just this one I'll go to, the others I already sent checks for."

Jack was silent for a long moment. "It's the one you stayed in, isn't it?"

"Yeah..."

Jack nodded. "I figured. Bobby, y' know, guys like you, you oughta be mayor or some shit."

Bobby barked out a laugh and shook his head. "That's fuckin' funny. Me, a mayor, I don't think so."

"Why not?"

He chuckled, rubbing a gloved hand over his hair. "They have too many laws and rules to follow. I make my own rules an' I'm the boss. The mayor is a good colleague, so to speak an' he knows how shit gets run in this city. And no way would the city vote a former street rat into office, I guarantee that."

Jack sighed and nodded once. "Guess not. But you're like...this weird contradiction. You kill people. You sell drugs, weapons; you're like the fucking godfather of Detroit! And then you go an' donate to shelters, and pick up strays offa the streets. What the fuck is that, anyway? How can you be both? You can't be a good guy an' a...a fucking gang leader."

"Says who?" Bobby demanded. "Where's it written that I have to be some shitty person in order to run stuff? I got a fuckin' soul, ok? Maybe I got blood on my hands, but I'm not a puppy kickin' troll. I help because I fucking well can, Jack. That's why. Because there were no guys like me when I needed the help, when any kid or mom on the street needed help!"

Jack blinked back the prickle of tears that burned under his eyelids. "I'm sorry. You're...yeah you're right, an' you know it. It's kinda confusing sometimes for me. And I know you're not a bad person, Bobby. You're...you're actually kinda nice."

Bobby snorted. "Nice, well that depends on who ya ask. I'm sure Jeremiah is cursin' me as we speak."

"Why did you fire him anyway?"

"Not really your business, Jack," Bobby's tone slipped into a slightly colder one. "It's done. That's all that matters."

Stung, Jack flinched and looked out the window. "Right…"

Bobby bit his lip, sighing lowly. He resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. And to be honest, he badly wanted to pull Jack on to his lap and taste his lips again. He grimaced and stared out the window the rest of the ride into the city.

X

"I'm startin' to think the snow'll never stop this year," Jack murmured, tracing his fingers along the large window pane. He curved his finger, drawing lines and jagged ones underneath. "We can all burrow under the city an' live like groundhogs and come back up when the spring is here."

Bobby made a sound of amusement in his throat, his eyes on the papers before him. "You might be onto somethin' Jackie," he said, tapping his pen on the desktop blotter. He squinted at the words, the ink blurring together. "Shit..."

"What's wrong?" Jack glanced at him. "You ok? You got that look again..."

"Pressure's buildin'..." Bobby dropped the pen and held his head in his hands. "Shit...Shit! I fucking hate this."

Jack slipped off the ledge of the window and crossed the room. He sat on the edge of Bobby's elaborate desk, frowning. "C'mere," he slid over more, sitting in front of him, heedless of the folders he was sitting on.

Bobby winced, pain shooting up his neck and into his head, the pressure gathering in different areas. Jack grasped his head, running his fingers up into Bobby's hair, his thumbs rubbing over Bobby's temples. "Shh, relax, ok? Gonna make it stop hurting."

He closed his eyes, breathing Jack in. A tingle ran down his spine at the feel of the strong thumbs and fingers easing away the tension areas. "You're too damn good at that."

Jack smirked. "Gotta be good at somethin', right? You're gettin' all tense again. What's got you all pissy for, huh?"

Bobby slid forward more, moving into the touch. He felt like purring. With a sigh, Bobby let his hands rest on his desktop, Jack's fingers lulling him into a wonderful calm. "Like a drug," he mumbled, "Best fuckin' drug."

Jack laughed quietly and brushed a kiss over Bobby's forehead. "You're somethin' else, Mr. Mercer. Bitchy and grumpy and loving and a big kitty underneath it all..."

"Don't you say nothin'..." Bobby smiled, the pain receding almost as fast as it had come on. He looked up at Jack, his breath catching. "Jack..." he stood up, studying him closely.

Jack tilted his head to the side, swallowing hard. Bobby cupped Jack's chin, catching his gaze, watching as those eyes lifted to meet his stare, bright and wide and somewhat unnerved. Jack shivered, pinned there under Bobby's gentle touch, pressed against the fancy wood, his palms damp with sweat. Despite everything, there was a hint of fear that never quite vanished around Bobby.

"Don't be scared. I'm the last one that'll ever hurt you, Jackie," Bobby whispered as he leaned in, kissing him.

Jack held still for a moment, his lips parting to meet the kiss. He closed his eyes, his arms coming up to tug Bobby closer. Bobby pressed against him, deepening the kiss slowly, his arousal surging up hard and fast at the feel of Jack's mouth to his.

"Bobby..." Jack pulled back after a moment, flushed and breathing hard. "Man, I'm on your desk here."

"So? Fuck the papers," Bobby fisted his hand in Jack's sweater, stealing another heated kiss.

Jack made a sound of protest, a weak one that faded under the feel of Bobby's tongue tracing his lower lip. He shuddered, reaching up and pushing his hands into Bobby's hair, the soft strands slipping through his fingers. Bobby groaned lowly, kissing him again, greedy for more.

A discreet cough from the doorway startled them both. Bobby broke the kiss, breathing hard. He glared at the girl, his gaze withering. "Can I help you?"

"I...I'm sorry, s-sir," she stuttered. "I...I have the packages prepared and I was w-wondering if they should be brought down to the delivery van." She glanced at Jack and then at the floor, blushing hard.

Bobby grunted, smoothing a hand over his mussed hair. "Yeah, send them down and get the fuck out, huh? Knock next time!"

"Y-Yes sir," she nearly tripped over herself, hurrying from the room.

Jack waited a beat and then laughed. "You look thoroughly kissed, Mr. Mercer."

"You are such a brat," Bobby tugged him close again, "A naughty brat. You know what I do to naughty brats?"

"Somethin' x-rated?" Jack grinned and batted his eyelashes. "Am I right?"

Bobby rolled his eyes and kissed him, nipping at his mouth playfully, his tension and stress forgotten in the feel of Jack's mouth.

X

"You're shittin' me, right? He actually fired him?"

"Yessir, I got word of it this morning, fired him yesterday. Gave him his shit an' told him to get out."

"Unbelievable," the man gripped the phone receiver in one hand, an amused smirk curving his lips up. He looked to the other sitting across from him, eyes bright.

"Follow Jeremiah. I wanna know where he's goin', what he's doin', clear?"

"And Mercer? Keep the tails on him?"

"Of course," he snapped. "Stay close to him no matter what. No excuses."

"Sir...There is one other thing..."

He frowned deeply. "What?"

"He's not alone."

"Come again?" he darted another look to the other man.

"He ain't alone; he's got some boy with him."

"A boy? He a hooker?"

"I dunno. I'm not about to ask. Maybe he is, maybe he ain't. Looks like he could be, he might be a street boy by the looks of it."

He snorted and shook his head. "Bobby Mercer..." he tsked, "Interestin' for sure. Stay close; get me anythin' you can on the kid. Get it now."

"Yessir."

The man hung the phone up and ran drummed his fingers on his thigh, his mouth quirking into an ugly sneer. "You know what that means, don'tcha?"

"Yeah, oh I know," the other man smiled, "Leverage."

X


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Strays 10/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Pairing: Bobby/Jack

Rating: R

Summary: What's it all worth when you're alone?

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.

Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.

X

It could have been worse, Angel reasoned as he lifted the heavy defrosted turkey out of the bathtub. Jack could have been like that snot nose punk, Billy. He grimaced, hefting the wrapped bird up higher. That kid, Christ, he'd wanted to punch that kid's head clean off. Always smirking and cocky, looking at them like he was better...

"Em, where you want this guy?" he moved in the direction of the kitchen, his view obscured by the turkey.

"Put 'im down on the table, boy, right on them towels," Em nodded to the waiting table, her hands under the warm water, covered with soap. She washed her hands carefully, eyeing the bird. "Lord, him a big size, do ya see it? Gonna have us some turkey till Christmas," she laughed merrily and dried her hands off.

Angel grunted and set the turkey down as instructed. "Too big, I'm thinkin' we're gonna be sick of turkey after a week." He cracked his back and sat down on the nearest chair with a sigh. "You hear 'bout Jerry?"

"If you got time t' gossip, ya got time to peel potatoes," Em clucked her tongue at him. "Wash up, boy."

Angel groaned. "Me an' my big mouth," though he stood to do so. "I don't like this shi-...uh stuff, man. I don't like how Bobby ain't what he used t' be, you know?"

Em glared at him, then, hearing the soft footsteps, smoothed out the annoyance. "Lucy girl, you come help this nosy boy with the potatoes."

"Yes..." Lucy nodded, her dark hair spilling over her face.

Em patted her shoulder. "That'sa girl." She looked back to Angel, her eyes narrowed. "An' you, boy, you don't be talkin' about what ya don't know. I made my mistakes, yes; Lord knows I did by thinkin' this Jackie boy ain't nothin' but trouble. Me an' you, we hurt that boy, made him think he ain't no good. I said my apologies; yes I did; now ya gotta do the same."

Angel snorted. "Apologize for what? For tryin' to keep Bobby from losin' his mind again over some piece of ass? Ow, damn it, Em! That hurt." He rubbed his sore ear, ducking back from her.

"Ooh, give me the strength to put ya over my knee!" she pointed at him, nearly on her tip toes with anger. "That mouth of yours, ya ought t' be ashamed, Angel boy!"

"Fine, I'm sorry," he dodged another of her slaps upside his head nimbly. "Calm down, I'm sorry, I swear."

"You tellin' the wrong person! Tell Jackie boy you sorry."

"I will," he held his hands out, sliding closer to Lucy, who let out a small squeak of distress and darted away from him and over to Em's side.

"Now ya see what you done, frightenin' Miss Lucy," Em shook her finger at him, one arm around Lucy. "I'll put ya outside shovelin', I will if'n ya don't stop actin' like a spoiled lil' boy."

Angel sighed and stood back against the counter. "Lucy, hey girl, c'mon, now you know I ain't gonna hurt you, right? How many times we gotta go through this?"

Lucy lifted her head warily, peering at him. "Moves...you move fast," she near whispered, "Fast hits..."

"Nah, girl, I wouldn't, you ever see me lift my hand near you?"

She shook her head, her grip on Em relaxing. She looked to Em for reassurance. "No hurt..."

"Never," Em hugged her gently. "Go on, it's ok, s' gonna be ok, Angel boy jus' runs his mouth sometimes, he don't think 'bout what he's doin', ain't that right?"

Angel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Sure, Em, an' I'll talk to Jack tonight, swear. And for the last time, I'm not jealous of Jack."

"Huh," Em sniffed, letting go of Lucy. "Em believes that when ya prove it. Protectin' you Boss is ya job, ya stick to that, boy. Makin' Jackie feel not welcome ain't no part of your job title, ya remember that, Angel."

"Yes'm," Angel nodded. He scrubbed at his hands, waiting for several quiet minutes before he cleared his throat. "You still haven't answered me, Em. About Jerry..."

Em cut away the wrapping on the turkey, humming as she moved. "Don't know more than ya do. Boss man makes him choices, he don't say why, he do what he do." She set the knife down and tugged the wrapping off. "I'm thinkin' they don't see eye t' eye no more. Don't like how him do things sometimes, that boy makes me wanna whap him good," she mused.

"But...I mean, it's Jerry, y' know? Him an' Bobby, they started this an' now what..."

"Now we do what we do, an' ya keep them lips zipped up, Angel boy," Em grabbed some paper towels, dampening them. She wiped at the turkey, checking it over closely. "Now work on them potatoes. They gonna be back soon."

X

"The answer to this isn't exactly an easy one, now is it?" Victor Sweet chuckled, a shot glass clasped in one hand. "But I must say, doin' business with some men often shows me more than ya think, am I right, Jeremiah?"

"Could be," Jerry ran his finger along the rim of his shot glass. "Some play the cards they get better n' others, and Bobby isn't a fool, Sweet."

Victor lifted the bottle of whiskey and refilled the empty shot glass in Jerry's hand. "True, but I say Mercer is a fool. He let you go, after all. What kind of boss lets his right hand man go outta the blue?"

Jerry contemplated the shot, watching the liquid swirl, his fingers numb. "I dunno," he muttered. "Guess he didn't wanna be called out on differences of opinions."

"I hear things, I got a way of knowin' things and findin' things out, that's my speciality," Victor refilled his own glass and held it up. "I got a way of removing situations when they ain't bein' handled right no more."

"Situations?" Jerry echoed, glancing at him. Something he saw in Sweet's eyes made a shiver slip down his back.

Victor laughed uproariously. "Oh yeah, situations, sometimes they gotta be arranged, sometimes they fall into your lap. I ain't the boss yet, but I will be. We pay our dues, do our time an' then when the time's right, we knock the leader down an' snatch up his shiny, shiny crown," he crooned. "And Victor Sweet is done payin' his dues. I want Mercer gone; I want him out of place!" He downed the whiskey, laughing again. "Don't worry, Jeremiah, I got a spot for you at my side."

"You don't know Bobby like I do," Jerry stared at him, mouth agape. "You don't...Victor, this is crazy, and you're crazy."

"You a pussy? Your dick fall off after all these years of pretty talkin' Mercer? You ever wanted to be one of his lil' boys?"

Jerry's nostrils flared. "You watch your motherfucking mouth, Sweet."

Victor slammed his shot glass down on the desk between them, the sound echoing in the garishly decorated office. "You don't wanna be my enemy, Jeremiah. Right now Bobby's the enemy, and I'm the best fucking chance you got, so don't you spit on me an' talk down to me. You remember that."

"The enemy of my enemy is a friend of mine," Jerry pushed the still full shot glass away, a rush of anger fuelling him. "You're not the biggest threat; you're another dog barkin' at the end of his leash. Who runs you, Victor? Your daddy? The boys on 39th? Someone else to answer to?"

Victor curled his lip, sneering at him. "You watch yourself, Jeremiah; you watch what you say to me."

"There's someone bigger than you, someone like Bobby," Jerry leaned over the desk, his palms on the blotter. He smiled and shook his head, a bright grin for him. "Oh yeah, there is. An' Bobby may not be afraid of him, an' maybe he should be. Maybe you should be too, cause you might not last this time. You might make it past Bobby, but there's always another waitin' in the wings."

"Well thanks for that fantastic piece of advice, Mr. Jeremiah, I had no idea how this shit runs," Victor smirked at him and pointed to the door. "Let yourself out 'fore I drop kick ya out."

Jerry rubbed his hand over his chin. "Ya don't get it, Victor. Bobby's…whatever he's doin', he ain't gonna fall for your shit. You gotta step up your game. S' all I'm gonna say about this."

"Does it look like I want the opinion of the fantastic Mr. Williams? Nah, don't think I asked, but this I do wanna know. Tell me now, what's he got with that piece of ass?"

Jerry frowned, his breath catching for a second. "That kid? Y' mean Jack?"

"Jack…" Victor chuckled quietly. "Lil' Jackie…Funny how new toys can change shit, huh?"

"What?"

Victor poured another belt of whiskey into his glass. "S' about when things started changin', am I right?"

"I…Yeah, actually…"

Victor toyed with the glass for a second. He downed it with a snort. "Pussy, asses, all the same in the darkness," he mused. "Makes you wonder what sweet Jackie's whisperin' in Mercer's ear late at night."

"I told him to relax, to fuck or whatever. Man, I didn't expect this shit. Him and his goddamn strays," Jerry muttered.

"This stray, this _Jack _has gotten in deep. I say we even things out. Arrange for this situation to ease up…"

Jerry lifted his gaze, his throat working convulsively. "Situation…Victor, you didn't have anythin' to do with his…" he trailed off, afraid of the answer.

Victor's eyes gleamed. "Ain't for you to know, Jeremiah but you remember my offer. Take your place with me."

"I…I dunno."

Victor gestured lazily. "Whatever, you let me know if you think you got what it takes, hm?"

X


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Strays 11/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Pairing: Bobby/Jack

Rating: R

Summary: What's it all worth when you're alone?

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.

Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.

X

"...Just do it, I don't wanna hear another word, we clear?"

Jack shifted on the bed, wrapped up in a bundle of blankets and sheets, warm and drowsy from his nap. He yawned, tugging the blankets higher up. Bobby paced nearby, his eyes narrowed, great irritation evident on his face. He marched to the other end of the room, his dress shirt mussed and wrinkled, a phone tucked under his chin as he barked instructions.

"I don't care what the fuck Sweet said, you do as I say! Yeah...Yeah well that ain't any of your business, now is it? Anythin' coming outta Sweet's mouth should have your guard up, you dumbass!"

Jack pushed up on one elbow, watching Bobby. He licked his lips and squinted a bit in the dim light. "Bobby..."

Bobby turned, looking over at him. He mouthed a 'sorry' to him and dropped his voice to a fierce whisper. "You hear me? You got it? Good. Don't call back till it's done." He snapped the phone shut and stuffed it into his rumpled pants pocket. "Christ, Jack, I'm sorry, didn't mean to wake you up."

"S' ok," Jack shrugged and slipped onto his side, yawning again. "Come lie down, you're gonna get all cranky if you don't."

Bobby dropped down onto the bed with a heavy sigh. "Em's gonna have dinner ready in an hour or so. You might as well stay awake."

"An hour means I got plenty of time to talk you into relaxin'," Jack snaked his arm around Bobby, tugging him back with surprising strength. "Lie down, Mr. Mercer."

"That an order?" Bobby looked amused. He settled against Jack's side, running his fingers through Jack's sleep tousled hair.

"Yessir," Jack leaned into the touch. "What's got you so pissy anyway? You were restin' fine till the phone went off."

"That little pompous asshole, Victor Sweet is the problem. He's got his eyes on takin' over. All the short ones do. There's always another hungry one waitin' for you to let ya guard down."

Jack tried, and failed, to hold back a snort of laughter. "Um...Bobby, you do know how tall you..."

Bobby silenced him with a glare. "Shut it, kid."

"You're really fucking adorable when you look pissed, did you know that?" Jack poked his side. "Grumpy little Boss man..."

Bobby curled his fingers in Jack's hair, tugging his head up. "Brat, teasin' fucking brat," he muttered, pressing his mouth to Jack's, letting the kiss melt away his anger. He traced his tongue along Jack's lip, deepening the kiss.

Jack pulled away, his cheeks warm. "Uh huh, you charm all the boys like that?"

Bobby reached for him, kissing him harder, Jack's lips parting under the heated kiss. Jack made a soft sound, his body moving into the touch. He slipped his hand over Bobby's shirt, fisting his fingers in the material. 'Falling...' his mind whispered, 'Falling too fast.'

Jack splayed his fingers wide over the cloth, Bobby's heart beat tapping out a fast rhythm under his hand. 'He's falling too...'

"Tell me somethin' about you," Bobby whispered as the kiss ended.

"Like what?" Jack quirked an eyebrow, "There's not much to tell, and none of it's all that great, y' know?"

Bobby stroked Jack's cheek with his thumb, tracing his skin. "Gotta be somethin' to you, you've lived nineteen years, yeah?"

Jack shrugged, his fingers rubbing at one of the neat black buttons on Bobby's shirt. He popped the button through the hole. "I don't know too much. My first memories are of bein' in an' outta different homes, foster shit..." He pushed another button through the next hole, slowly parting the dress shirt, Bobby's skin visible then. His breath caught at the tattoo beneath his fingers. He glanced at Bobby, startled. "Huh..."

"I had trouble rememberin' my rosaries years ago," Bobby smiled a little. "So one day, I got it into my head that if I had one put on permanently, then I'd be safe."

Jack snickered and shook his head. "Bobby...you're so...yeah," he ran his pinkie over the coloured beads, intrigued by them. "Anyway, like I said, it's all a fuckin' blur of shitty homes and some people were good, others, not good. I got bounced around a lot."

"You don't look like trouble though."

Jack's lips twitched in a sad smile. "I guess maybe I was. I dunno. I never fit in. And bad..." he looked away. "Bad shit happens sometimes. And the wrong ones get blamed for it. And suddenly your file gets bigger an' you get shipped to more homes, but it never lasts and then you end up in juvie with kids that use you an' show you how to stop bein' the bitch..." he bit down on the words, his face flushed. "You learn not to trust, an' to never let anyone know what you're thinkin'."

"Yeah, yeah I know what all that's like. Been there, Jackie, been there. Hell and back," Bobby said, hugging him closer, feeling the slightest of trembling from the young man. "But all that bad stuff, it's over now. You're safe now."

Jack closed his eyes, his fingers tracing the inked skin. "I know..." He swallowed over the lump in his throat. "Em told me that you had an adopted mom, right?"

Bobby sighed and nodded. "Evelyn Mercer... not a day goes by that I don't miss her. She was the sweetest lady in the whole goddamn world, I swear. Tiny little thing but she was made of steel, took no bullshit, ever. She found me one day..."

_He stood in the alleyway, slumped against the brick wall, eyes focused on the people passing back and forth on the sidewalks. He sniffed, wiping at his runny nose with one dirty hand. It was too cold, much too cold to be out panhandling, he grumbled to himself. His ears burned from the cold wind, unwashed hair falling in greasy sections over his face. _

_There...By the street parking. He smiled. An unpleasant smile, he knew. A woman stood with several bags at her side, her head down as she unlocked the car door. He moved fast, darting through the crowd expertly. She lifted her head, alert as he approached. He reached a hand out, a blade tucked into his palm. She turned, looking at him. _

_He skidded to a stop, staring back at her. He scowled and moved his hand, letting the tip of the blade show between his fingers. She raised one eyebrow, blue eyes dancing with amusement then. There was a moment, a silence, an unspoken conversation between them. _

_It hit him hard, the clarity of it. She wasn't afraid._

_There was no fear, no once over of his appearance with a wrinkled frown of distaste. She simply wasn't afraid._

_He let his hand fall back and wiped at his nose once more. Silently, she dropped her car keys into her pocket and tilted her head. He sniffed and took a step back. Her silence was unnerving, more so then the lack of fear. She narrowed her eyes and looked him over. "Been on the streets very long?"_

_He glared at her, shifting from foot to foot. "The fuck do you care?"_

_"Someone needs to," she countered, the corners of her mouth tugging in a not quite there smile. "Not enough people do, I find."_

_He shrugged and ran his thumb over the blade, comforted by the familiar weight of it. She lifted one of the bags. "Would you open the car door for me, please?"_

_He stared at her. "Huh?"_

_"The car door," she nodded her head to the side of the car. "I need to put my bags inside."_

_He frowned, his feet moving him forward. In a daze, he reached for the car door and tugged the handle, all his instincts dulled. He stepped back as the door opened. She smiled at him and he felt a wash of warmth roll over him. She looked pleased. He shuddered and took a big step back, completely unnerved. _

_"What's your name?"_

_He wiped at his running nose, ignoring every reflexive thought he had. "Bobby..."_

_"Bobby," she echoed, nodding. "I'm Evelyn Mercer."_

Jack rubbed his finger along the tips of the tattoo rosary. "She wasn't afraid at all?"

"I figure, since I was only a kid, maybe I wasn't so scary lookin', but no one ever looked at me the way she did," Bobby said, his voice faded, lost in the memory, "Like I wasn't some piece of trash in the gutter. She had this way of talkin' to even the most scared an' angry kids, and they would...listen, y' know? There was somethin' about her that made you feel like ya mattered, for once."

Jack swallowed over the lump in his throat. "She saw through the front you had. Actin' tough, yeah?"

"Right from the minute she saw me," Bobby chuckled a little. "And even when I was bad, she understood. She never, ever gave up on me. She used to say I was giving her gray hairs and did I want that on my conscience?"

"Em said she passed away."

Bobby's lips thinned, his forehead creased. "Yeah, before I met Em. She was gunned down in a variety store."

Jack sighed. "I...Fuck, I'm sorry, Bobby. Me an' my big mouth..."

"Over two hundred people turned out for her funeral," Bobby curled his fingers, stroking Jack's hair once more. "People...she touched so many fucking lives...saved so many kids. And just...ripped away like that." The words caught in his throat and Bobby blinked, choking on his rage and grief. "Gunned down like it was nothin'…"

Jack pushed into the touch. He brushed a kiss over the rosary, whispering, "Guess God needed an angel back."

Bobby looked down at him and smiled. "Yeah...Yeah, I guess he must've. Still haven't forgiven him for it. Maybe I never will." Bobby looked away abruptly, a gleam to his eyes, unshed tears for Evelyn.

X

The turkey, roasted to perfection, sat in its place of honour on the table, waiting to be carved. Em had set the table with Bobby's best linens, plates and glasses, and elegant dinner setting. Jack chewed on the inside of his lip, amused by it all. The presentation, the fancy dinnerware, you'd think royalty was coming, he laughed silently.

Em shook the match out in her hand and fanned at the air after lighting the last of the candles on the table. "Hopin' ya broughtcha appetite t' night, Jackie," she said in his direction, "Got a turkey near as big as you."

He rolled his eyes. "Em, for the last time, I'm not that skinny!"

"A wee boy ya are, but ya got some meat startin' t' show on them bones of yours," she ran a hand over his hair. "Gonna have ya fattened up no time a' tall."

"He's fine, Em, you don't need to fuss," Bobby shook his head. "He's not a waif," he added, sitting down near Jack.

Em put her hands on her hips and cocked her head, "You a fine one t' talk, big Boss man. No eatin' ain't never good for no one, an' no back talkin' on motherin', boys."

"Yes'm," Jack tipped a wink at her, laughing.

Angel took a seat across from Jack, his back stiff. Em shot him a warning glance and nodded towards Jack. The message was very clear. Apologize or else. Angel jerked his head, a cut off nod, enough of one to placate her for now.

Lucy sat on the other side of Jack, her eyes on the plate before her. Her shoulders were tucked in, her body small and tensed. Bobby rapped his knuckles on the table. "Lucy…"

She lifted her head, peering at him through the veil of hair. "Y-yes…"

"Smile, Lucy, its Thanksgiving, a great day, you know?" Bobby gave her a kind smile and Jack would have bet anything he had that few others had ever seen such a thing right then.

A small smile formed on her lips. "Yes, it is…happy day."

"I gotta say this is the first Thanksgiving I ever really wanted to have," Jack toyed with the silver fork by his fingers. "I mean...well, yeah..." he shrugged and flicked a grin at Bobby.

Bobby sat back in his chair, the lines in his face relaxed. "I know the feelin'."

Em bustled about, bringing more dishes out until the table fairly groaned under the weight of the food. She stood beside Angel and held her hands out on either side. "Out with ya hands. Bobby, you be leadin' this one, yeah?"

Bobby nodded to the others and stood with his hands out as well. Jack lifted one amused eyebrow. Angel stood, as did Lucy and Jack sighed inwardly. He was not much of the praying type, but if the others did…He glanced at Bobby and shrugged. When in Rome, he thought.

He stood and clasped Bobby's hand in his, feeling the smooth and rough skin grasping his palm, his head bowed and he closed his eyes, listening to the soft spoken prayers from a man feared by many.

X

Victor ran his finger over his pen, his eyes half lidded, Jerry's words still floating in the air. Afraid of Bobby…the very thought, he sneered. Bobby Mercer was no different than any other boss, any crime lord, any gangster. And everyone has a weakness.

He smiled and nodded to the other men nearby. "Everyone…" he paused, savouring the moment of silence, the way the others looked to him as he spoke. Even his own father was listening, he noted with pride. A flicker of his uncle pressed into his memory and he swallowed, pushing the thought back where it belonged, buried in the past.

Malcolm Sweet left a legacy of brutality behind him, a generation of hatred and violence and corruption. Victor flashed a bright smile at the men. He was better than Malcolm, better than Bobby, he was sure of that much.

"We have a…situation…to deal with," he said. "Now, no need to fret none," he waved one hand idly. "I know jus' how to deal with this situation, oh yeah, I got this one."

His father quirked one corner of his mouth and Victor swore a vicious streak in his mind. Don't even try it old man, he sneered again. "Bobby has himself a little pet, another stray. Funny how people get so attached to their pets, huh? You remove the pet and suddenly they can't seem t' think on nothin' but their lost toy, and wouldn't it be a damn shame, damn shame, if Bobby lost his little stray?"

"You remove the pet, you distract the man," Victor said with slow precision.

"His name is Jack."

X


	12. Chapter 12

Title: Strays 12/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Pairing: Bobby/Jack

Rating: R

Summary: What's it all worth when you're alone?

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.

Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.

X

"You sure you don't want my company?" Jack sat, sprawled actually, over the chair in front of Bobby's desk, a cigarette hanging between two fingers; hair rumpled and mussed, the very picture of relaxed and carefree contentment. "I can keep you entertained; maybe even juggle for quarters, whatever."

Bobby shook his head, amused and distracted by the tempting drape of Jack's long legs over the arm of the chair. "If I bring you, I can almost guarantee I ain't gettin' work done, kiddo." He tore his gaze away from Jack and looked down at the messages from one of his informants'. He rested his head to one hand, more than eager to have the day done with.

Jack grinned and took a long drag from his cigarette. He exhaled, the smoke curling up and over his head, his smirk growing. "I'm a great distraction, Mr. Mercer."

"Didn't I tell you not to call me that?"

He shrugged, "Maybe."

Bobby sighed. "You're a real brat sometimes, Jackie. And yeah, you are a distraction, all the more reason why I need you to stay here. I've got three separate meetings and a business lunch."

Jack made a face and leaned back on the chair, smoking intently. Finally he flicked the cigarette near the ashtray on the floor. "What about background music? I bet I could play somethin' to keep all you guys in damn good moods."

"Jack..."

He chuckled dryly and stared up at the ceiling. "Fine, I'll stay here and wait like a good puppy boy."

Bobby's amusement faded and Jack felt a slight shiver curl up his spine. "I...Fuck...I'm kiddin', Bobby."

Silence met him. Jack turned his head, shifting to face Bobby. The moment of silence stretched on in the room. Jack flicked his cigarette again and licked his dry lips, his heart skipping a beat. There were times that it was easy to forget who Bobby was and what Jack stood to lose by pissing him off. He stubbed the cigarette out, fingers shaking.

"You think that's how I see you?"

Jack flinched, his shoulders hunching. "No..."

"Liar," Bobby's tone was ice cold, deep lines of annoyance and anger creasing his forehead.

"What do you care what I think? I can think whatever the hell I want," Jack snapped, cursing himself even as the words left his mouth.

Bobby stared back at him levelly, his eyes dark. Jack thought for a brief moment that he could almost see the tightening at the corner of Bobby's eyes, a prelude to one of his migraines. "Yeah, you're right," he said on a near whisper. "You think whatever the hell you wanna, Jack." He lifted the papers from his desk and stood, his broad shoulders tensed. "I'll just be out an' about gettin' a leash for you."

Jack bit back the urge to apologize. "So if I ain't a stray, then what am I? A fucking pet?"

Bobby walked past him and opened the door. He held it open, his face blank. "Go on, I got work to do."

With as much dignity as he could muster, Jack slipped off the chair and stalked past Bobby, his throat burning up with unvoiced rage and frustrated tears. He resisted the urge to stomp his feet though, preferring a silent exit. Bobby closed the door behind him with a muted thud.

X

Angel frowned and shrugged his coat on, watching Bobby closely. His attitude had nosedived since that morning and that in itself had made him suspicious. Lots of things made him suspicious, he reasoned, his eyes scanning the area around Bobby as they walked into the warehouse with a practiced ease. People, things they said or did, body movements, or lack of them. Or pretty white boys that wormed their way into Bobby's defences, he gritted his teeth and forced the thought back.

Bobby walked a step ahead of him, almost swaggering, his angry stride radiating for all to see. Angel flicked his glance up along the walls of the warehouse, checking for cameras or weapons. You couldn't be too careful, not really.

He let a blank expression slip over his face, his years of service kicking in as Bobby approached the waiting man, wary neutral greetings heard all round. Bobby's phone chirped several times, shrill and annoying. He slipped it out of his pocket, spared the quickest of glances at it and tossed the phone to Angel. "Ignore it."

Angel caught the phone with one hand. J. W flashed on the screen.

Jerry.

Angel ran his gloved thumb over the side button, switching it to ignore with only a minor pang of guilt. Bobby's partnership with Jerry, however complicated it was, really wasn't his business. He let out a huff of breath. Em had made sure that he'd understood that concept. The phone chirped again and Bobby glared at him over his shoulder.

He flipped the phone open and took two steps back. "Don't bother, man," he whispered into it.

"Angel! Angel, Jesus Christ, tell Bobby that Victor's on the-"

"Don't call, Jerry," he mumbled, lowering his voice. "Boss don't wanna hear it."

"You-you don't understand! He's comin' for him...for J-..."

Angel closed the phone and slipped the button down to vibrate, ignoring the frenzied buzzing in his pocket a moment later.

X

"G'on boy, ya stop with the poutin' an' help Miss Lucy wit' all them baskets, yeah?" Em patted Jack's shoulder. "Tuck in ya lip 'fore you trip."

"I am not poutin'," Jack growled and moved away from her. He got up off the couch. "He's so...ah fuck it!"

Em reached up fast, tapping his ear with two fingers. "Ah! Jackie boy, I know ya know betta than that! None of that foul mouth or Lord knows I will wash that tongue, boy!"

Jack winced and dodged her hand again. "Sorry, Sorry, Em…"

She gave him a dirty look. "Swearin' an' poutin'...honest," she clucked her tongue at him, "Cute boy, not so cute when ya actin' like a wee boy. Help Miss Lucy wit' the laundry, them sheets, Boss man wants on the line outside."

"Why? So they can freeze? Isn't he like, allergic to the cold?" Jack snapped under his breath.

"Notcha place t' ask, boy, 'sides, they warm nice inside 'fore he sleeps on 'em. Getcha self goin', boy, or I'll give ya somethin' t' pout over."

Jack grumbled but did so, putting his jacket and boots on to combat the deep snow. Angel had shovelled out the path to the back of the house where the lines of laundry were hung, creating a safe pathway for them. Jack grabbed one of the wicker baskets and hiked it up to his hip, carrying it out to where Lucy was standing, her hair swaying in the light breeze. Jack shivered, feeling the cold seep into his exposed skin.

"Lucy..." he said softly, not wanting to frighten her, as he often did by accident.

She tensed but turned at the sound of his voice, her winter coat belted around her waist. She offered him a small smile and ducked her head. "Sheets...We hang them," she said slowly.

"You got it." He dropped the basket beside them and grabbed the first damp sheet, lifting it up and tossing it over the sturdy line. He took the peg from Lucy and pinned the sheet in place, humming under his breath.

Lucy paused and licked her lower lip, a nervous habit of hers. "Jack...you sing...for me?"

He smiled, feeling his bad mood lifting. "Yeah, sure Lucy, no prob. Whatcha wanna hear?"

"The music...you sang Em...on a day..." she stuttered out, stumbling over the words.

"Ahh, the Beatles, y' mean? From the other day?"

Lucy smiled more and nodded her head, "Si...She like...I like too."

Jack plucked another peg up and secured the sheets. Em had a deep love of the Beatles and she would warble along to the tracks on the stereo in the kitchen that Bobby had installed for her. He grinned. He picked up the second sheet and pushed it over the line.

He paused for a moment, searching for the right song and then began singing in a low voice.

"When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom. Let it be.

And in my hour of darkness, she is standing right in front of me, speaking words of wisdom. Let it be."

He sang on, keeping the tone soothing and pleasant, listening to Lucy's whisper quiet giggles of delight. He continued with each sheet, singing snatches of songs, old songs that he knew would keep her happy. Jack nudged her after a moment when there was no peg waiting in her hand.

"Lucy...Lucy? Hey, c'mon girl, I need a peg, please."

She stared off into the distance, her dark brown eyes wide with unbridled fear. "Jack...See them..."

"Huh?" Jack blinked and looked around the stretch of snow covered ground. "See what?"

She lifted one trembling arm and pointed to the side of the house, beyond the fencing. "See...los hombres..." she whispered, slipping back into Spanish. She dropped the small basket of wooden pegs.

"What…what the hell...men?" Jack squinted, looking where she did. "Damn it...why didn't I finish that languages class," he muttered. "Lucy, I don't see anything."

Lucy took a step back, then another, moving behind Jack. Her lips moved in silent prayer. Jack glanced back at her, straining his ears. "Lucy...oh Jesus, don't freak out, he'll kill me for sure. Lucy, c'mon look at me, it's ok, I swear."

She let out a strangled shriek and ran back from him, running towards the house. Jack whipped back around to see two men, dressed in black, complete with knit ski masks on, running outside the fence. His breath caught in his throat and he let out a tiny noise of alarm. His throat working convulsively, Jack took a step back. The men looked at him and then ran off, towards the front of the fence.

Jack patted his coat pocket, feeling the familiar weight of his blade in it. He smiled grimly and jogged over the snow, running to the front of the house. The men joined two others, one examining the security box at the front gate. One pointed to him, muffled noises reaching his ears.

"You picked the wrong house, guys," Jack called out, putting his hand into his pocket. He gripped the knife, holding it tight.

"Mercer ain't here, Jack," one pressed up closer to the fence. "We know he ain't. Do ya self a favour and open the fence. Don't make us do this the hard way."

Jack rolled his eyes as he approached the fence, a bit unnerved by the fact they knew his name. He stopped right in front of it and gave them a cocky sneer, one born to infuriate. "Uh huh, I'm fucking terrified. And yeah....the answer's no. Go pick some other house to rob, ok?"

"Open the fence!" the man shouted. "Now, or I'll blow your fucking head off!"

"Do I look like I fell off the turnip truck yesterday? Beside, I don't even know the code to let you in anyways."

A gun appeared in between the small slits of the fencing, the audible click of the safety release horribly loud right then. Jack swallowed, his heart stuttering to a stop for a moment. "Go ahead, shoot me, still won't get you in here, boyos. Mercer has this place locked down tight."

The man smiled, his crooked teeth gleaming. "Don't want the house. We want you."

His arm came through the slot and grabbed a fistful of Jack's coat, yanking him forward. "Now open the fuck up."

X

Lucy ran in a blind panic, her feet tripping her up. She tumbled down, landing in the icy snow. "E-E-Em!" she screamed, raking up fistfuls of snow that stung and bit at her unprotected fingers, "E-Em!"

"Lucy girl, whatcha screamin' for? Where's Jackie?" Em's large frame filled the doorway of the side door, her eyes wide.

"Los hombres, they...they come!" she fumbled to stand, running towards the safety of the house. "Diablo..."

She collapsed in Em's arms, babbling frantically in Spanish to her, only one word coming through clearly.

"Jack..."

Em froze, holding Lucy on instinct. "Inside, Lucy girl...inside, ya pick up that phone an' call t' police, you hear?"

Lucy yanked herself lose from Em's grip and pushed past the door. She stared through the kitchen window as Jack was yanked towards the fence, several men shouting and struggling to climb the fence. "Jack..." She reached over and grabbed a knife from the safety block on the counter.

"Lucy! Lucy girl, don't ya dare!" Em shouted as Lucy ran out the kitchen, a look of murderous fury on Lucy's face that stunned her for a long moment.

X

Jack struggled in the iron grip that held him. He brought his hand out, flashing his knife. "Back off!"

"Open the fuck up now or I'm shovin' this gun up your faggot ass!" the man growled. "I said now!"

"I don't know the fucking code!" Jack shouted back at him, his knife moving fast.

The man hissed furiously, the knife slicing neatly through his gloves. "You fucking cunt!"

Jack stumbled back, released from the grip. He laughed, wild and unrestrained, unable to believe this was happening. "You guys...you signed a fucking death warrant just now. You wait...Mercer's gonna..."

A scream echoed behind him and Jack felt his blood run cold. Lucy...

He turned to see her running towards them, a knife in her hand, screaming and swearing fluidly, her face contorted with rage. "No...Lucy, don't!" Jack reached for her, the blast of a gun going off around them.

Lucy reached the fence and swung with her arm, stabbing the knife into the arm of the man reaching for Jack. He screamed and wheeled back from the fence, blood seeping out from his coat and glove immediately. "Kill her, shoot her, the fuck you waitin' for?!"

Jack snaked his arm around Lucy, yanking her back. She stiffened in his arms, the silent bullet smacking into her chest with a whispered thud. She let out a small moan, her eyes fluttering for a second. "Jack...no hurt, Jack, Diablo..." she choked, blood pooling in her mouth.

"No..." Jack stared at her, tears flooding his eyes. "No, no, no, oh my god, no..."

Lucy coughed, her fingers touching his cheek as she twitched and jerked. Jack dimly heard the sound of feet landing next to him, dimly felt the sudden rush of pain flood the back of his head as a gun was slammed down on his skull and as he was dragged away from Lucy, her blood dripping over the snow in garish ribbons of red, he let out a sob.

"Bobby..."

X


	13. Chapter 13

Title: Strays 13/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Pairing: Bobby/Jack

Rating: R

Summary: What's it all worth when you're alone?

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.

Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.

X

There was no one word for it. Not rage or fury. Not anger or grief. No, not one word could begin to describe his all encompassing swirl of emotions. Bobby stood in the blood stained snow, unable to speak or move, a horrible numbing sensation spreading through his veins.

Em stood at his side, weeping into a handkerchief, her sobs carrying on the wind. Angel swallowed, staring at the fence with blank eyes. He could see the footprints, the marks in the snow, the sprays of blood here and there, tire tracks on the road nearby and the pool of half frozen blood before them where Lucy had fallen.

He swallowed again and touched Bobby's shoulder. "Bobby…c'mon, we can't…we gotta get Em inside. Too damn cold out here."

Bobby ignored him, his gaze fixed on the snow. "I'm gonna kill him," he said in a ragged whisper, a harsh sob catching in his throat. He clamped down on the tears that tried to flow.

He clenched and unclenched his hands, flexing his fingers. There was no justice, none in what had happened. In his life, the only justice was what he could deal out to those who crossed him or those who deserved compassion. Bobby raised his head to stare at the sky, cursing the heavens above.

Em crossed herself and wiped at her face. "Please…g' on inside, Bobby," she touched his cheek, ignoring the flinch from him. "Don't do ya no good freezin' out here."

Bobby closed his eyes, the ambulance sirens still echoing in his ears. "Yeah…" He turned and walked up the path, a wretched wail gathering in his chest. If he let it out, let the rage out…No, he forced the grief down, past the rage, past the animalistic fury and primal screams. Cold, unending, outright _rage_, he would bring unspeakable wrath upon Victor Sweet.

X

Jeremiah paced back and forth, his hands shaking. He fought the urge to vomit, wiping a hand over his clammy skin. He looked at the desk, his cell phone silent and still on the wood. "You don't even understand how fucking bad this is…" he looked to the other side of the room, unnerved by the silent stare directed at him.

"Bobby…he'll never believe that I didn't have anythin' to do with this. He won't, I know it better than I know my name. I'm a dead man, walkin' dead man. He's gonna destroy everythin' over….over this fuckin' kid!"

Jerry uttered a short, humourless laugh. "Victor Sweet, what have you done, man?"

"Victor brought this on himself, Jeremiah. Let the cards fall as they will."

X

"Bobby…" Angel sat in the chair, his elbows resting on his knees. "Green's here to see you. Askin' questions 'bout what happened."

Green, Bobby scowled at the shot glass and downed the amber whiskey, his throat burning. "Send him in." He put the shot glass down and refilled it, the bottle clicking off the rim. His right hand shook as he gulped it, welcoming the flash of heat.

"Bobby," Green stepped through the office door a moment later, his gloves in hand. "I know this is a bad time…"

Bobby snorted. "You got a fucking gift, Green, you really do. Stating the obvious is a fine, fine skill." He gestured to the chairs. "Take a seat, man, you thirsty?"

Detective Green took his seat, sighing. "Nah, I'm on duty. Ask me again in a few hours. I talked to the hospital and with the officers on scene."

"Uh huh," Bobby poured a third shot, the whiskey slopping over the rim of the glass. "Is she dead yet?"

Green winced. "Bobby, man, you wanna slow up on those shots?"

Bobby's fierce glare met his question. "I'm a big boy now, Green," he hissed. "Tell me if she's fucking dead."

"She's critical right now," Green shifted in the chair. "About the boy…"

"The _boy_ has a name."

Green nodded quickly. "Of course," he amended. "Jack, I have a team on his case."

"How reassuring," Bobby snarled at him. He swallowed the shot and dropped the glass with numb fingers, the glass cracking on his desk blotter. "Allow me speed up the process. I already know who has him. Victor Sweet."

"You can't just accuse like that, Bobby. And let's be clear right now? You got yourself a lot of enemies. There are more than a few lower levels who would pay dearly to have this fucking empire, Mercer."

Bobby leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes, his face tight and pinched, his forehead creased and lined. Green thought absently that it looked like Bobby's head hurt. He blinked, pushing the thought to the side. Bobby tented his fingers and rubbed at his temples. "Bring him back," he whispered. "I don't care what it takes. I'll pay off whoever needs to be paid off, but I want him back."

"Bobby…"

He opened his eyes. There was a frightening blankness, a fury bone deep, his pupils blown way out. "Find him."

"What makes you think it was Sweet?"

"No one else would have the fucking nerve!" he roared. "No one, no one would dare!" He grabbed his shot glass and wiped it across the room. The shot glass smashed into the nearest wall, shards dropping to the carpet, amber droplets staining the fabric. "He's fucking dead, Green. He took him!"

Green breathed out, forcing himself to stay still and not flinch back. He'd never seen Bobby so unhinged in the ten years he'd known him. Bobby, in this state of complete and total fury was overwhelming. He took in a deep breath, giving Bobby a moment to settle.

"We'll find him," he said, his words cutting through the thick silence. "Swear it, Bobby."

Bobby let out a harsh sound, a not quite sob. The very sound of it cut deeply into Green's defences. He scrubbed at his face with one hand, nodding. "What're ya waiting for then? Get out."

Green rose off the chair, nodding. "Yeah, yeah, ok." He slipped his gloves back on and left the office, harsh breathing filling the air behind him.

Angel stood in the hallway, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "You really got somethin' to work on?"

He eyed Angel, frowning. "Your boss know that you listen on his conversations?"

"Do you or don't ya? Cause I don't want you givin' Bobby something to hope on if you don't really got nothin'."

Green bit the inside of his cheek and nodded once. "I got some ideas."

"Then I got a name for you," Angel leaned in. "Jeremiah Williams."

"Jerry?" Green raised both his eyebrows, "As in Jerry's, Bobby's…associate?"

Angel smiled a thoroughly unpleasant smile. "The one an' only…"

"What would Jerry have to do with this?"

Angel stepped away from him and walked down the hallway, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpeting. "Good question, ain't it?"

X

The kitchen echoed with noise, the stereo playing the best of the Beatles' mournful songs, Em's hands flying over knives, plates and trays. She moved from counter to counter, to the oven, the cupboards, her fingers steady despite the slow tears that dripped down her cheeks.

Angel leaned on the doorway, watching her. He licked his lower lip, gauging what, if anything, he could say. "Em…"

"Don't be standin' like there ain't nothin' t' be done, boy," she said, her voice cracking. "Ya put them hands t' use an' stir the pot o' soup."

"Em, maybe you oughta sit an'...an'..."

She hunched her wide shoulders up, a small sob passing her lips. "Angel boy, no 'mount o' cryin's gon' bring Lucy girl or Jackie back t' us," she gritted her teeth and wiped at her eyes with her handkerchief. "But preppin' food's, Lord knows, s' a band-aid on what hurts ya. Now, scrub up, boy."

He shook his head and walked over to her. "What's all the food for? No way can we eat all this an' Bobby, well ya know he won't be eatin' much of nothin', now."

"Then we take t' them who needs it," she rested a hand over her chest and her face crumbled for a moment. "Lucy girl," she whispered, crossing herself once more. "Sweet Lucy girl, she tried t' stop them devils...went wild after them."

"Did her a whole fucking lot of good, huh?" Angel scowled out the window. "Where's the goddamned justice, Em? What in the hell did Lucy ever do to deserve this? Or...or even him, huh?"

Em stepped away from Angel. "I'ma let that slide, boy, but no more cursin' in this here kitchen. We don't ask God t' tell us why them bad things happen! We ain't the only's t' suffer, Angel. Lotsa people in this world ain't never seen no compassion or care!" she gripped the counter, her back stiff. "Lucy girl, she done what's right, can't say the same, can ya, boy?"

"I don't care 'bout the kid so much as I care 'bout Lucy! I care 'bout Bobby!" Angel shouted, gesturing to the doorway. "Not some skinny white boy that managed t' get Victor fucking Sweet sniffin' this way! And for what? She gets shot up protectin' him!"

Em reached up lightning fast and slapped him, the sound obscene against the mournful lyrics coming from the stereo. "You best find ya rosary," she whispered, her eyes flashing dark and furious. "Go repent, boy an' stay outta my kitchen till ya done."

Angel touched one hand to his swollen cheek, stunned. "Em..."

"Go." She turned away from him and picked up her stirring spoon. She moved to the stove, stirring the contents on the pot on the largest burner.

He hesitated a moment longer before leaving the kitchen, his cheek burning.

X

Bobby rested his head in his hands, his elbows propped on his desk. He took a great, shuddering breath, his head racked with pangs that made his stomach clench. He closed his eyes tightly in the darkness of his office, the only light coming from the gleam of the snow outside his window. A lance of pain ricocheted around his skull, forcing a small moan of pain from him.

The three painkillers he'd swallowed with the last of his bottle of whiskey had merely dulled the edges. He wet his dry lips, shuddering hard. "Jack..."

Taken...stolen from him. Bobby let black fury lap at his restraints, the urge unabated to rip Victor limb from limb and make an example of him. He shoved at his anger, rocking a little as his head pounded in time to his heart beat.

Lucy...Bobby snarled under his breath. Shot like a...like a stray, left to die in the freezing cold snow, drowning in her own blood. Bobby's arm swung out, knocking the empty bottle to the carpet. A tear slipped out of his tightly shut eyes. It ran down his cheek and dripped to his desk, staining the piece of paper below. The paper he'd taken from Lucy's side, hidden from the police that had crawled over his yard, searching for clues.

He felt nausea roll through him. Victor Sweet and his fucking audacity. Bobby fisted one hand and pounded it on his desktop, crumbling the note that bore only one line, typed ever so neatly in the middle of it. His fingers cold, Bobby reached for the bottle of painkillers, shaking two more out. He dry swallowed them, shaking hard.

The note mocked him, such simple words.

**Saint Evelyn. They ever find her killer?**

Bobby pushed away from his desk and stood up, wobbling dangerously. "Jack," he rasped. He laughed, his stomach twisting at the motion. "I'm comin'."

X


	14. Chapter 14

Title: Strays 14/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Pairing: Bobby/Jack

Rating: R

Summary: What's it all worth when you're alone?

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.

Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.

X

Evan flicked his cigarette, listening intently to the nervous man nearby, his grunted responses a mere reflex as the man babbled on. He inhaled, a slightly dizzy feeling rushing through him. He'd known something like this was going to happen.

"Dwayne, man, you need to calm the fuck down or he's gonna smell the sweat on ya." He dropped the cigarette butt to the snow covered cement steps and ground it out with the tip of his boot. "Don't give him no reason to think you're weak."

"I ain't half as scared of him as I am of Mercer," Dwayne wiped at his forehead with the sleeve of his coat. "Ain't nothin' good gonna come outta this. It's too much, man, way too much."

Evan shrugged, indifferent, "Gotta know how to play guys like that."

"Bullshit. I saw you few weeks back, fucking knees were knockin' together, Evan," Dwayne snorted and spat on the ground, drawing some semblance of calm from the steady eyes of Evan. "You looked ready t' piss yourself."

"Let's see you sit in front of him an' not be sweatin' like he's gonna break out them thumbscrews or his damn lighter."

Dwayne smirked a little. "Uh huh, Sweet's offerin' what Mercer never will. You gotta pick the right side ahead of time."

Evan glanced back at the windows of the house, shifting his weight on the porch. "I picked what I picked, not about to regret it, but I'll say one thing for ya, Dwayne. Mercer don't forget, he don't forgive and he's gonna kill ya when he finds out."

"If..." Dwayne wiped at his forehead again, his smirk fading fast. "_If_ he finds out. I know he don't forgive but if he don't know..."

"Big risk to take," Even looked at his watch. "You know where they're keepin' the kid?" he asked casually.

Dwayne frowned. "Why?"

"Curious is all," Evan mentally counted out several seconds before smiling thinly. "I figured he'd stick him in his house, keep a close eye."

"Nah, man, house is too easy, too obvious," Dwayne crossed his arms. "Bobby ain't the only one with warehouses."

Evan raised his eyebrows, surprised. "Huh...Yeah, ok, I gotta run. Shit to do still today."

"You think I made the wrong choice, don'tcha?"

He looked at Dwayne, pitying him for the briefest moment. There had been a time when Dwayne had been one of his closest friends. "It don't matter much what I think Dwayne. You made ya choice when Sweet dangled all them pretty promises in front of you. Just..." he sighed and shook his head. "Victor ain't Bobby, for better or worse."

He stepped away from him and walked away from the carefully nondescript meeting house. "Bye Dwayne," he murmured under his breath.

X

It was a blur of noise, muffled shouts and harsh breathing above him. Jack swayed from side to side, blood trickling down the back of his neck in a sticky, still warm trail. He wrinkled his nose and shifted, struggling to find his balance. He flexed his fingers at his sides, his head radiating a dull, yet vicious ache. He shifted again, the world around him rumbling more.

He wet his lips and took a breath, shivering. A van...? A car maybe...He turned his head and opened his eyes. He opened his mouth to call out for help, the feeble sound fading away at the sight of the legs next to him, of the black jeans that reeked of blood and smoke. Jack lifted his head more, clamping down hard on the pain that slammed through his skull. He let out a tiny moan of pain and struggled to kneel on the floorboard, his legs cramped and confined in the small space.

"Stay down."

Jack scowled at the floorboard. "I ain't a dog," he muttered.

A hand came down, slapping him and splitting his lip. Jack reeled back against the floor, blood flooding his mouth. He spit weakly, the blood dribbling down his chin, ignoring the fresh bursts of pain in the back of his head. Jack felt for his knife in his pocket, fear seeping into him at the realization that, at best, his knife was in the snow. Lucy....he hung his head. Oh god....Lucy...

"Shut the fuck up! You hear me?"

Jack edged away from the man, curling up. Small, gotta stay small...He closed his eyes, willing his heart to stop racing. The man grunted and pushed at him with one gloved hand. "Stay put an' I won't cuff you. Move an' I'll make you regret it, pretty boy."

Horrified, Jack struggled to pull the words back but they burst forth, spilling hot and hateful over his lips, his head raised to spit at him. "This the only way you can get hard? Roughin' up young boys, huh? Yeah, all you repressed, closeted motherfuckers are the same, can't get it up till they're bleedin' an' cryin', you sick pieces of shit!"

With a snarl, the man's fist slammed into Jack's face, cutting off the flurry of insults. Jack cried out and flopped back, stars dancing behind his left eyelid. A well placed kick to his upper thigh, another punch to the back of the head and Jack drifted off, slipping gratefully into unconsciousness.

X

"Don't know if'n this be a good idea, Boss man." Em gripped the handles of her purse and took a deep, shuddering sigh. "Seein' Miss Lucy now, ain't nothin' easy 'bout all this."

Bobby stared out the window, the city rolling past them in a dirty gray blur, the snow streaked with salt and grit from the roads. "They said critical. That doesn't mean dead."

"Maybe not, but don't mindin' me sayin' so thatcha ain't in the right mind t' see Lucy girl like this. Them officials, them doctors, they don't let ya anywhere near c-critical…" Em trailed off and swallowed hard. She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief.

"Let's see them stop me," Bobby whispered. His eyes were bleak. "Let's seem them try."

Em toyed with the straps of her purse, nodding. "Yessir," she bit her lip, worry creasing her face.

They rode in silence to the hospital, wind buffeting the car along the road. Bobby grimaced as they pulled into the parking lot. His migraine was gathering strength by the hour. He bit down on the inside of his cheek, holding the rush of pain back.

Bobby walked into the hospital, Em close at his side. He strode past the main reception desk, and with a minimum of fuss, made his way to the intensive care unit. His steps slowed as he neared the darkened room, his boots creaking in the whisper quiet halls. He let out a breath and stood in the doorway, watching the coloured lights on the machines, the tubes that were connected to Lucy's still body.

Em crossed herself. "Lord…Little Miss Lucy," she sniffled softly.

"She looks like she's sleepin'," Bobby looked away, his face crumpled. He took a moment, gathering his senses. He stepped up to the bedside and felt his eyes prickle and sting. He blinked back the tears and touched his gloved hand to Lucy's lower arm. An i.v. line ran into her hand, taped in place. He made a sound and turned his head, breathing hard. "Bastards...fucking bastards," he hissed, tears threatening again.

"Boy, don't," Em crooned at his side. She rested one hand over his gloved fingers and squeezed gently. "Cursin' won't help, Lucy girl needs good thoughts."

Bobby closed his eyes. The fury was back, oh yes, rolling and turning in his stomach. He swayed, his head splitting apart at the flash of each spasm of pain. He could dimly hear Em, her voice smooth and steady, a calm sound that called his attention, pulled him back from the horrible rage that threatened to overwhelm him.

"Em," he whispered. "I can't do this..I can't." A tear ran down his cheek. He wiped at his face with his arm, sniffing. "I can't sit here when Victor Sweet ain't dead yet!"

She moved her hand, her fingers cupping his cheek. Bobby pressed into the familiar, loving touch, his shoulders hitching. More silent tears coursed down and she made soothing sounds, the low croon calming him. "That'sa boy," she stroked his cheek. "Sit boy, g' on, sit down with Miss Lucy."

Bobby sat on the nearest chair and held his head in his hands. "Need a pill...God help me, I can't do this straight." He lifted his head and peered at Em. "Don't look at me like that."

"Never had a mind t' listen when you was a younger man," she smoothed his hair back with her palms, coaxing the strands into place. "Speakin' bad things won't help Miss Lucy or Jackie none, an' ya know that, boy."

"I can't not do somethin' Em," Bobby took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The monitors attached to Lucy beeped steadily. "Victor Sweet did this. He..."

Em brushed a motherly kiss over Bobby's forehead. "Shh, boy." She petted his head, standing at his side. Bobby pressed against her, taking one breath after the next, his migraine ebbing back as the minutes ticked by. Jack could have fixed it just with his thumbs, he thought, his stomach rolling with the flashes of pain behind his eyes. Jack...

Bobby took another deep breath. The thought of losing him was unbearable. In such a short period of time, his affection for Jack had turned, turned into something that frightened him. Bobby's shoulders jerked. If Victor hurt him...of all the things he could do to Jack... Bobby held back a snarl. If Victor touched one finger to Jack...He bit his lip, indulging in thoughts of different ways to destroy Victor.

"Time's like these, ya oughta be spendin' it prayin', boy," Em tipped Bobby's chin up, her fingers grazing his cheek.

"Prayin's for when you got nothin' left," Bobby muttered. "When there's no bullets an' you see that look in their eyes as they come for you, that's when you pray it'll be over soon."

Em smiled faintly, unshed tears gathering in her eyes. "Prayin's for all times, when all hope you got fades, for them moments when ya think no, no I can't g'on no more. That's when you pray, that's when you 'member that you ain't never alone, God, Him watchin', He sees ya sufferin', He hears ya prayer, boy, He does."

Bobby pulled away from her touch, a nasty grimace contorting his face. "Bullshit!" he spat, his lips drawn back in a snarl. "He hears, but He don't give a shit!"

She took a step back from him, her eyes wide with disapproval. "Boy, you don't, in ya heart, believe that."

"I believe He's waitin' to see how much it takes before I lose my fucking mind!" Bobby moved off the bed, pacing and gripping at his head. "I've done bad shit, lifetimes of it, I know I ain't good, but why hurt everyone else? Huh? He's so fuckin' good and all mighty, then why is Lucy as good as dead an' Jack...and my Ma..." his voice cracked. "No...Fuck Him!"

He pushed away from the bed. "Fuck Him for hurtin' everyone else instead of jus' fuckin' killing me!"

Em crossed herself as the tears fell down her cheeks, the wetness gleaming in the dimly lit room. Lucy's machines beeped on, her inhales and exhales near silent. Bobby felt a ragged sob tear loose from his throat and he fled the room in a blur of hateful tears and blinding pain.

X

Jerry pressed one shaking finger to the memory button on his phone. He paced while the other line rang. "C'mon, _c'mon_..." he said under his breath.

"What?"

He sighed and wiped a hand over his head. "Angel, don't hang up, man. It's me."

"I know that dumbass, caller i.d."

"Where's Bobby at?"

Angel paused and Jerry felt the air rush from his chest. "Why? You gonna come at me next? Or Em? How 'bout you be a fuckin' man an' go after Bobby, 'stead of us?"

"No, no, no, you don't even...Angel, I swear t' God, I didn't have nothin' to do with this! I tried to warn y'all, you know I did!"

"Bullshit, you know what happened! You got in bed with Victor Sweet, you fucking chickenshit liar!"

Jerry held his head in one hand, breathing hard. "I swear, I didn't know he was plannin' this, not something like this."

"They shot up Lucy, did you hear me, Jeremiah? They shot her the fuck up."

Jerry stumbled mid step, his eyes wide. "No...I...Oh Jesus Christ! I thought..."

"What?" Angel cooed, his voice dripping with false sweetness. "You thought it was jus' gonna be Jack, right? You thought Victor would send his boys an' take Jack outta the picture right?"

"I didn't arrange nothing!"

Angel laughed, the jagged sound of it sending shivers down Jerry's spine. "Yeah sure you didn't. Whatcha got against Jack? You an' me, it's you an' me, it's you an' me, they think we did it. I didn't like 'im, thought he was another Billy, but I was wrong, Jerry, fucking wrong! He's a kid, nothin' but a kid that Bobby's sweet on."

"Bobby's gonna kill me..." Jerry breathed, pure panic fueling him.

Angel snorted. "Tit for tat, maybe he'll take out your woman. There ain't nobody safe from Bobby Mercer, not now."

Jerry swallowed over the sour lump in his throat. "No..."

"If I was you, I'd be findin' out where Victor stashed the kid. Maybe then Bobby won't cut your fuckin' head off."

Jerry fought the urge to laugh hysterically. The phone slipped a bit in his hand, his fingers greasy with sweat. "Yeah, yeah Angel, I wasn't kiddin', once I heard, I tried t' tell y'all what was gonna go down. You hung up on me, man."

"Don't matter if you did or I did. Victor took Jack an' damn near killed Lucy. Ain't no mercy for none of us now." Angel hung up, the click of the phone sending a crash of new fear crawling through Jerry's limbs.

Jerry sat on the edge of his desk, his shoulders slumped. "God help me," he mumbled.

X

Bobby sat in the wooden pew in the hospital chapel, his eyes closed, head lowered. He took small breaths, on the verge of hyperventilating. The scent of wood, the familiar feel of absolute silence, stillness, calmness surrounded him. He fancied he could almost feel Evelyn sitting next to him. "Mom," he whispered.

He sighed and opened his eyes, looking about the chapel. "Ma, you remember all those times you tried to tell me about forgiveness?"

Silence answered him. He smiled, his lips curved down in sad, wistful memory. "Think maybe you were wrong. God doesn't care, He's laughin' at me and takin' everyone away. He ain't listenin'."

"God listens and hears our words. It's what we do with his words that matters."

Bobby flinched, his hands straying to the holstered gun he wore under his coat. "Who the fuck asked you?" he snapped at the woman that stood next to the pew.

She smiled at him, unruffled by his harsh words. "I'm sorry to intrude. You looked like you needed someone to talk to."

"Did I say I wanted t' talk to you?" he stilled his hand, watching her closely. She was very plain looking, nondescript was the first fleeting thought he had.

She tilted her head a little. "There's no better place than here when one needs to talk."

Bobby made a noncommittal grunt and looked away. "Why's there no answer when we talk if He's listening?"

She stepped into the row and sat down beside Bobby. "I think we hear what we want to when we ask a question of Him. In the silence, our answers come."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that's a whole lot of fucking help."

"You have so much anger inside you. You're hurting."

Bobby glared in her direction. "Look lady, I don't wanna talk an' my 'anger' isn't any of your concern, clear?"

"Your mother, she tried to show you how to listen."

He stared at her, his heart skipping a beat. "...What?"

The woman smiled again. "She tried and I think you did learn, but in your anger and hatred now, you can't remember the way nor can you find your faith. You're lost in your anger, lost in your suffering."

"How the hell do you...who are you? Do you even know who you're sittin' beside?"

"There's few people who wouldn't know you," she leaned forward and plucked a black book from the wooden shelving on the next pew. "I can feel your anger, your hurt and suffering. You believe God is punishing you."

Bobby snorted. "I know he is."

"You think your mother's death was your fault," she paged through the book idly, her eyes on the words before her.

"Stop it..."

"We often carry the burdens we imagine are ours to bear. It's a flaw for many."

Bobby felt fresh tears threaten behind his eyelids. "I...I wasn't there."

"Your mother would never hold you responsible for what happened." She lifted her gaze for a moment and Bobby fought the urge to recoil. How could he have thought her to be non descript when her eyes seemed to see right through him?

Eyes like Evelyn's...He shuddered a little. "You don't know everythin'. It's cause of me that she got killed."

"Are you certain of that?"

"You really don't know me at all, lady," Bobby took a breath and exhaled in one rush. "People like me, we forget that havin' families, it's a bad thing. We lose them all, one by one."

"You believe that you're undeserving of a loving family," she selected a page seemingly at random, her watchful gaze still set on Bobby. "Of being loved by anyone."

Bobby bit the inside of his cheek. He could feel the edges of his migraine receding. "Stop..."

"Of his love..."

"I said stop!"

"Or God's love."

"Damn it!" Bobby stood up, panting for breath. "Shut the fuck up! I don't need this, I don't have to listen to this shit!"

She lowered her gaze to the book and spoke in a low, soothing voice. "We fear being alone at times. We fear a life where we live without the love of another. You fear this."

"I'm not afraid of anythin'! Or anyone for that fucking matter!" Bobby shouted. He grimaced and clasped his hands to his head. "I'll kill them all, you wait an' see."

After several minutes, Bobby sat down, shaking. She ran her fingers over the printed words, line after line. "Do you hear what's said in silence?"

Bobby closed his eyes, sick to his stomach. "I don't hear anythin'."

"In the silence in this room, in any place of the world, you aren't alone." She rested her cool hand to Bobby's cheek, ignoring his muttered protests. "He has not abandoned you. You simply have to listen."

Bobby opened his mouth to protest when he felt a warmth wrap around him. He blinked and let out a breath.

She was gone.

Bobby licked his dry lips, his heart pounding against his ribcage. "Jesus..." He looked down at the bible that lay beside him on the pew and read the passage her finger had moved over.

**_'...and lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.'_**

Bobby closed his eyes once more, pressed his hands together and began to pray silently, the warmth soothing him as he did so.

X


	15. Chapter 15

Title: Strays 15/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Pairing: Bobby/Jack

Rating: R

Summary: What's it all worth when you're alone?

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.

Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.

X

He stood in front of the window, watching the snow fall and cover the first layer on the ground, his hands clasped behind his back. Any minute now...his prize was en route. Victor Sweet smiled, humming under his breath. It had been easy, far too easy to take Jack. Such patience to wait this long, he planned to savor every single second of this, right up to the moment of Bobby's fall.

Destroying Bobby was so goddamned simple, it irked at him, truly, to realize it only now. "And why do ya get attached, when you oughta know better, Bobby boy?" he chuckled.

His cell phone chirped on the desk, ignored by Victor as he watched the snow and the approaching vehicle in the distance. He rubbed his chin and turned away from the window, taking a seat at his desk. The phone continued to chirp, Jeremiah's phone number appearing in the viewer. Victor switched it to silent and sat back in his chair, waiting.

Time crawled and then, something that brought a cold smile to his face, a noise, a scuffle of sound in the hallway. The door opened and two of his men entered the wide doorway, a slumped over figure held up between them. Victor eyed the boy, watching with some amusement as they forced him to stand.

"Didn't I fuckin' warn ya?" the man growled, slapping Jack when he squirmed in the tight grip.

"Enough Luke," Victor sat forward, his heartbeat picking up a notch. "We don't want our lil' guest here to pass out. Jack, are you listenin', boy?"

Blue eyes spat fire at him, the boy's lips drawn back in a bloody snarl, his cheek already darkening with what would become a spectacular bruise. He stared back defiantly at Victor and spat a mouthful of blood tinged spit on the fancy carpet beneath him.

"Now that was rude, Jackie," Victor laughed. "Oh I like you, you got some fight in you, boy."

Jack glared at him, his chest hitching unevenly with each breath. Victor waited a moment before standing and walking around to them. He took his time, slowly walking over until he was in front of Jack. He looked at him, annoyed by the fact that had Jack been standing straight up, he would have towered over Victor by several inches.

Victor smirked and ran a hand through Jack's tangled hair, yanking a bit on the strands. "Yeah, you got a cocksuckers' mouth for sure. Bet you love doin' it too. Got that look about you, pretty boys got that look in their eyes, an' their mouths."

"Fuck you," Jack whispered, shaking with anger, raw hatred coming off him in waves.

"No, no, Jack. I don't fuck boys," Victor patted his bruised cheek, enjoying the flinches of pain that resulted. "Pretty as ya are, I know who's been inside you most recent, an' sloppy seconds ain't for me."

Jack lunged at him with a snarl, nearly breaking free of the men holding him. Victor took a step back and nodded to Luke, who shoved Jack's arm up higher along his back. "G' on, keep fightin' an I'll break it," he hissed.

He fell back into their grip with choked cry of pain and fear. Victor smiled a cruel smile and gave Jack a once over. "Street rat, then?"

Jack clamped his mouth shut, his eyes watering. Victor supposed it must have been quite painful to be held like that. "Yeah, I think so. Bobby sure loves him some street ass. Don't see why, you never know where that hole was an' you can't trust a street rat t' be honest, now can we, Jackie?"

"What the fuck do you _want_?" Jack stared back at him, breathing hard. A tear ran down his cheek, smearing the blood around his mouth. "Huh? What the fuck do you want with me?"

"Boy, who said it was about you?" Victor smirked and let out a small chuckle. "Oh, Jack, it ain't about you at all."

Jack licked his split lip, shaking more. Victor fisted his hand in Jack's hair again, wrenching him forward. Jack moaned, twisting away, his face contorted with pain. "It's you that hurts Bobby. Takin' you is gonna be the last straw."

"You... won't b-break him," Jack managed, his eyes rolling back when Luke shoved more on his arm.

Victor's smile faded. "You fuckin' punk," he snapped and yanked hard on Jack's hair, backhanding him viciously. Jack slumped back down with a strained whimper. Victor flexed his fingers and walked away from him and over to his desk. "Pussy," he muttered.

Luke relaxed the grip on Jack's arm ever so slightly. "Want 'im in the one on Fourth?"

"Yeah, get the faggot outta my sight, 'fore he bleeds more on my fuckin' carpet."

They hefted Jack up, carrying his limp body from the room. Victor sat down on his chair and laughed wildly, the cackle bouncing off the walls and echoing around him.

X

"You don't even know where he's got 'im, Bobby, you ain't thinkin' this through," Angel frowned, watching Bobby collect a cache of weapons. He laid each item on the table, checking them over, his fingers moving over the guns, years of practice in the way he handled them.

Bobby spared a glance at Angel, leveled a glare at him and moved on to the next gun. He checked the bullets in it and reset the safety. "You think I care what you got to say? Far as I'm concerned, there ain't no place I won't go lookin'."

"An' maybe that's what Victor's hopin' on, huh? This could be one hell of a trap."

Bobby tossed a pistol at him. "Shut up or get out. I'm done with games, with people I can't trust. Either you're in or you're out."

Angel snagged the pistol, his lips tightening into a deep frown. "Bobby, man, don't play like that. You know I got ya back, always have. I'm jus' sayin' this could be a real fuckin' big trap. Jack's the bait."

"No, this is the fucking bait," Bobby took the crumpled note from his pocket and slammed it down on the table. "That's the bait, right there."

He leaned over and read the single line. His lips twitched. "That fuckin' prick. Pretty much ownin' up to what happened, ain't he?"

Bobby pushed a clip into one of the guns, a flicker of rage in his eyes for a moment. "She never did nothin', never deserved what they did. Lucy either."

"You got that right. So what's your plan?"

"I ain't got a plan," Bobby tucked a gun into the holster he had on. "I'm wingin' it."

"You always wing it." Angel folded the note up and held it out to Bobby. "You ain't tired of goin' on instinct yet but ya sure do need some backup."

Bobby snorted and rolled his eyes. "Yeah...Yeah, I think so, but this is serious shit, Angel. You're in or you're out. I want him back, you hear me? I want him back an' I want Victor Sweet t' die beggin' for mercy."

"Mercy?" Angel blinked and frowned. "Since when do you give out mercy?"

"No mercy," Bobby whispered. He picked up another gun, his hand shaking for a second. "None."

"Where do we start?"

Bobby arranged several guns across the table. "I called Evan, called in some favors, see what shakes loose. Victor, I know his family, they got warehouses, I'd bet my last dollar on it. He's got houses, different ones. Jack could be in any of them. Call up Damien, see what he knows. He spied for me before, he'll do it again. He's a bitch but he's only about the cost, not the moral."

Angel pushed the paper at Bobby. "Take it, man. An' listen, just a thought...what about Jerry?"

"Fuck him."

"He might know some shit..." Angel said cautiously. "Never know, right?"

Bobby let out a sound of cold rage. "Fuck him. He made his goddamned bed, now let him lie in it with his whore."

Angel kept his mouth shut, not wanting Bobby's rage directed at him. He could see it, the anger that left deep shadows under Bobby's eyes, the pronounced lines in his forehead and the grim downturn to his mouth. He resumed checking the guns. If Bobby knew he'd hung up on Jerry...

X

After several hours of chasing his tail, as Bobby was apt to describe it, Green sat down in the booth seat with a weary sigh. He loosened the tie around his neck and offered the waitress a wan smile. "Hey Doll, you got any specials I oughta know about?"

She raised one gray eyebrow at him, her lips curved with a light smirk, battered notepad in hand. "Oh sure do, same shit as the day b'fore, an' the day b'fore that, an' so on, Mr. Big Shot Detective. You want ya usual?"

Green chuckled. "That's Lieutenant, Doll, an' you know I do."

"Ain'tcha ever thought 'bout orderin' somethin' new?" she tucked her notepad into the faded apron pocket.

"Changes aren't always good, Dolores Doll."

She cracked a smile at him, lighting up her wrinkled face. "So damned bitter, you are. Sit back, I'll getcha what you need."

Green ran a hand over his tie, leaving it draped loosely over his shoulders. No one was talking, there was no info on Sweet's whereabouts. Green frowned. That in itself was unusual. Victor Sweet was loud, proud of his background and obnoxious as all hell, never one to keep quiet about his life. He should have been shouting from the rooftops that he had something of Bobby Mercer's. That would have fit his usual patterns.

He drummed his fingers on the well worn Formica table top, listening to the sound of a boxing match playing on the grainy television by the bar. And if Victor wasn't waving a red flag at Bobby, then what was the point? He sighed again, letting his eyes close for a moment.

"Look who get got here, sleepin' in a shit hole. My, my, what's become a' Detroit's finest?"

Green glared across the booth as someone slipped in across from him. She smiled at him, not entirely friendly and flipped her mane of glossy black hair back from her face. "They payin' you overtime for running you ragged, Baby?"

"Sofi, s' kinda early for you to be up," Green drawled. "You got yourself a date with someone respectable?"

She sniffed and set her purse on the table, taking out a metal file. Examining her nails, she ran the file over one. Sharpening her claws, Green thought with some amusement. "You don't know how t' talk to us ladies all proper, do you? All that education, goes t' nothin', Baby. Buy me a drink, hm?"

"How 'bout you tell me some things, an' maybe I'll buy."

Sofi pouted a little. "Tell you what?" She picked up the file and rubbed her thumbnail across it. "What do you think you gotta know?"

Green watched her for a minute. "You hear anything about Victor Sweet lately?"

"He fucked up my friend, Bibi!" she hissed, dark eyes flashing, her full lips drawn back over her teeth. "Son of a bitch, he beat her, dump her outside like she's trash..." she trailed off, swearing fluidly in Spanish.

Green winced. "Shit...I'm real sorry, Sofi. She ok? Got a safe place to be?"

Sofi sniffled and nodded. She put the file down and shook her hair back. "Devil man, the girls, they call him Devil man. There's nothin' good from his money. Filthy money, blood money. They all scared of him, Baby, all of us."

"Anythin' else though, anything at all?"

She shrugged. "Nothing new, but maybe I heard somethin', maybe I didn't. What's it worth?"

Dolores cleared her throat. "Oh do pardon me," she placed the tray of fries and a steak sandwich on the table. "Can I get the lil' lady somethin'?"

Sofi sneered at her. "You jealous cause you remember your days or cause you never had them, huh?"

"Sofi..." Green groaned. "Don't start, girl. Doll, we're fine. Bring her somethin', charge it to me."

Dolores eyed Sofi. "Don't give me no excuse t' put your ass outside t' night girlie. S' gonna get real cold out there."

Sofi turned away, clearly ignoring her. "Jealous," she muttered under her breath. She stole one of Green's french fries, eating it fast and daring him with a cheeky grin to say something.

"What'd you hear? This is important, girl, real important."

She took another fry and nibbled the end of it. "I heard some things, might be important. He got shit moving around the city faster lately, here n' there. That Bobby Mercer's on his list but that ain't no surprise, Baby."

"You don't know the half of it. What 'bout Jeremiah Williams?"

Sofi giggled and gestured with the french fry. "Oh him, Mistah Playboy, he got Camille up an' comfy in his condo, he pay her real good."

"Camille hooks?"

She rolled her eyes. "For a cop, you sure are dumb. She ain't no street walker, she's a high class lady. Like me."

"Uh huh," Green took a fry from his plate. He dipped it in the ketchup streaked over the fries. "What do you know about Jeremiah?"

"Flashes his money, he think he's some big shot. We all know the truth, he be at Bobby's beck an' call," she smirked and flicked her fingers. "Big, bad Mercer, he don't want none of us, we ain't got what his nasty needs want."

Green ate another fry. "You know 'bout that?"

"Please, Baby, don't act like you don't know. I wouldn't touch him, no never, who cares how much he got when he can't be nice. I heard, I see things, I listen, Baby, I do," she batted her eyelashes at him. "He saw me once, he be cruisin' and he slowed at a light. Me an' Bibi go up to the window an' he looked like he wanted t' fly away," she laughed, the sound rich and throaty. "Oh boy, Mister Big Boss Man, he don't like us ladies, no Baby, he sure don't. He gets real nasty if'n he sees you laughin'."

"Tell me you didn't cross him, Sofi," Green looked up, a hint of fear passing his face. Bobby could be horribly unforgiving.

Sofi waved one hand, her nails painted with red and black stripes. "He yell an' I yell. I ain't scared of no queer man. He never hit a woman, I betcha that much. Who cares who he is? Always another man waitin' to come along. Maybe the next one will want some of me."

Dolores dropped a plate in front of Sofi. "Don't be countin' on that."

Before she could rise, Green grabbed Sofi's wrist, holding her in place. "Don't, I mean it, don't make me cuff you!" he whispered fiercely.

Sofi stilled and then winked at him. "Ohh Baby, you jus' wanna cuff me up an' have your way huh? S' ok, I got a few cops in my corner."

"Not today, Sofi, not today. Here," he let go of her wrist and nodded to Dolores. "Eat up, ok?"

She laughed and took another fry off his plate, ignoring the fresh ones before her. "Tell you one more thing. S' gonna cost you more than food."

Green nodded, resigned. "Make it worth the paper it's printed on, girl."

"I seen somethin' t' night, on my way up Fourth. Don't know what, but I saw some big car travelin' through there, goin' real slow."

"So?"

Sofi favored him with another of her smiles that implied his stupidity. "Ain't nobody goin' through Fourth at night an' movin' real slow, Baby."

X


	16. Chapter 16

Title: Strays 16/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Pairing: Bobby/Jack

Rating: R

Summary: What's it all worth when you're alone?

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.

Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.

X

It was too dark to see much as Jack was carted into a building, his head spinning from another slap upside his cheek. The back of his head still hurt like a bitch. He stumbled along with the two men, his arms held up by them. He tripped over his feet, his boots scraping over the floor.

"Fuck's sake! Can't ya even walk straight?" Luke snarled at him. He raised his hand and Jack flinched, despising himself for it. "Walk proper 'less you want some broken legs."

Jack clenched his teeth. He stumbled again, crying out when Luke punched him, fresh pain rolling through his head. Luke grunted and picked Jack up, slinging him over his shoulder. He stalked down the hallway, swearing under his breath.

The floor tiles moved in a blur, nausea twisting Jack's stomach. Luke kicked at a door, the heavy metal frame shaking from the force of his boots. He dropped Jack in a heap to the cement floor unceremoniously. Jack bit his tongue to keep his angry words back, his limbs protesting the sudden drop.

"Cuff him to the pipes," Luke pointed to the wall, where the slim metal pipes curved down the sides, dingy and dirty.

Jack recoiled, his arms shaking. The other man, silent as he'd been from the moment that they had stolen Jack, took a pair of handcuffs from his coat pocket, the metal bracelets glinting in the dark room. Jack licked his cracked lips, a whimper building in his throat. "No..." he whispered, trying to scoot back from the large man. "Don't..."

"You think we gonna leave you t' wander this place?" Luke snorted. "Yeah sure, an' leave a phone so you can call your boy t' come getcha, right?"

Jack shook his head wildly. "No...No Fuck, please! I swear, I won't try an' escape or nothin', jus' don't cuff me!"

Luke rolled his eyes and reached for him, cruel fingers digging into Jack's arm, clear through the flimsy coat. He yanked him upwards. "Now!" The metal snapped shut around Jack's wrist, the sound of it a horrible echo in his ears.

"No...." Jack croaked, on the verge of hyperventilating.

Luke dragged his arm up, pulling him along the cold floor. Jack shouted and squirmed and kicked at them, twisting and yanking to free his arms, his shouts drowning out the clanking of the cuffs attaching him to the pipes. "You bastards, you fucking cunts!" he kicked at them furiously. "He's gonna kill you all, all of you! You wait, he will and I'm gonna fuckin' laugh when he does it, you hear me?!"

Luke landed a vicious kick to Jack's side, the tip of his heavy boots digging in. Jack screamed, sharp red-hot pain spiking up his ribcage. Luke grasped a handful of Jack's hair and lifted him up several inches, shaking him about, relishing the screams that tumbled over Jack's lips. "Fuckin' pussy," he spat, tossing him back down to the ground.

Jack curled up as best he could, tears streaming down his cheeks. He hitched in a breath, his left arm hanging limply from the metal pipe above him. He let out a sob, the pain unending, raw and fiery. Luke looked him over and nodded to the other man. "C'mon," he gestured to the door and walked away from Jack, ignoring the pained cries behind them.

X

Bobby let his hand drift to the holster he wore under his coat, his gaze focused solely on the men milling about outside the building across the street. He tugged at his knit cap, the fabric tugged down over his hair and most of his forehead. He frowned, watching the men leave in pairs. The building was one of Sweet's, Bobby was sure of that. What looked like a nondescript building was actually a facility he used to transfer weapons, to strip serial numbers and what not.

One man he watched with great interest. He appeared nervous, smoking a cigarette and looking about every few seconds, eyes wide. Gradually all the men left but the smoking one, his shoulders twitching as he paced.

"Twitchy," Bobby whispered. He smiled, a cold and unfriendly smile. He slipped out of his car, one of his older, run of the mill cars and crossed the street casually, his boot steps muffled by the gritty snow underfoot.

He fumbled one hand in his coat pocket, drawing out a package of cigarettes. A pang flickered. They were Jack's. He drew one cigarette out and held it between his fingers. He tucked the pack back in and nodded at the kid as he neared him. Twitchy looked at him, the cherry red glow of his cigarette illuminating his face in the fading light.

Bobby patted both pockets and frowned. "Fuckin' hell," he muttered, "Forgot my damn lighter. Got a light?"

Twitchy nodded, his blue eyes darting about still. He held out his lighter, flame extended and Bobby leaned in, lighting the tip. He stepped back, inhaling deeply on the acrid smoke.

"Thanks man," Bobby eyed him. The guy looked ready to fall over. Bobby exhaled, smoke rising above his head, watching Twitchy pace. "S' wrong with you? Pacin' like you're an expectant father with the clap."

Twitchy shook his head, his lips quirking. "Y' don't know shit, a' right?"

Bobby felt a twinge of pain flicker through his head. He cocked his head to the side, smoking silently for several minutes. He dropped his hand, the cigarette hanging between his fingers "Waitin' for someone? You hookin' or dealin'?"

A glare answered him and Bobby smirked. Hit a nerve then, clearly. "I ain't peddlin' nothin' so if ya buyin', keep on movin', fag."

Bobby moved fast, slamming the guy into the wall of the building, his forearm up against his neck, grinding down hard on him. Twitchy let out a startled cry, his eyes alarmed, his own cigarette dropping to the ground. "Shit...Shit man, s' a joke, s' a joke is all..."

The lit cigarette jutted out between two of Bobby's fingers, the glowing red tip inches away from his face. "You know me, man? Do you?" he growled.

"Nah, nah man, can't say I do, you ain't no homo though, I got it, no worries," Twitchy babbled, squirming against the brick.

Bobby snorted and firmed his grip. The guy wheezed, his fingers scrabbling at the thickly muscled arm across his windpipe. "Who you waitin' for, huh?"

"No one!" he gasped. "Swear it..."

"Bullshit!" Bobby leaned the cigarette closer. "You're waitin' for something, I fuckin' know ya are."

Twitchy shook his head several time, his gaze glued to the burning ash, abject terror in his face. "Sweet! Victor Sweet's guy, he tol' me t' stay here."

Bobby lifted the cigarette, hovering it above Twitchy's cheekbone. He whimpered and struggled more. "Don't....Jesus fucking Christ, don't burn me, man..." he looked at Bobby, as if really seeing him for the first time, horrified. "You...You're him...Mercer...Oh fuck..."

A cruel smile spread over Bobby's mouth, his eyes dark with twisted amusement, pleased by the fear in the guy's face. "Yeah....now listen good...what's your name?"

"R-Ryan," he wheezed.

Bobby plucked the cigarette from his fingers with his free hand and lifted it up. "Ryan, listen real good now, boy. I'm gonna ask you a coupla questions. You tell me the truth, the whole fuckin' truth an' nothing but the truth so help you, God. If you don't..." he wiggled the cigarette close to Ryan's right eye. "Best speak fast, 'fore this burns out on ya."

"I don't...I don't know nothin'," Ryan pleaded, tears in his eyes. "I don't man...I'm at the bottom o' the line, they don't tell me shit."

"Then why they got ya stashed out here, Ryan, hmm?" Bobby pointed to the building. "Sweet owns this place an' everybody knows that." He dropped his hand, the ash dangerously close once more. "So, why....are....you...here?"

Ryan let out a low sob, his eyes closed. "Don't...Please, Mercer, m' beggin' ya, I don't know nothin'..."

Bobby sighed, though he looked anything but disappointed. His head flared with fresh pains at the panicked screams that filled the air.

He smiled.

X

The phone rang on and on, shrill and tinny in his ear. Green dropped the receiver back onto the desktop phone with a sigh, a tension headache gathering strength in his temples. He frowned, holding his head in both hands. "The fuck are you up to?" he whispered.

"You know they say the first sign that you're losin' it is when you start talkin' to yourself, Boss," Detective Fowler slipped into the office, closing the door behind him with his shoe, a cocky grin on his face.

Green almost smiled. "Nah, it's when you start arguin' back with the voices that you hafta worry. Tell me you got me something on Jeremiah?"

"Jeremiah Williams, aged twenty-eight, juvenile record long as my arm, only one conviction as an adult, and well known partner to the ever mighty Robert Mercer," Fowler sat down in the wooden chair across from Green, a manilla folder in his fingers. "Until recently of course."

"Bobby's associate," Green leaned back in his chair. "You know something I don't?"

Fowler shrugged and that little smirk of his widened. "Maybe...C'mon, Green, you telling me you don't hear the gossip? Please. A guy like you, so...deep...in the street culture and you don't know about Jerry and Bobby?"

He glared at him. "Fowler, you're all over my last nerve. And no, I didn't hear nothin' about Jerry until I started hearin' everyone mentioning him since the shoot up with Mercer's place."

Fowler waved the folder and tossed it to him. "Not too long ago, Bobby let Jerry go. Officially, they split partnership. Unofficially, Bobby kicked his ass to the curb for his new piece of ass."

Green blinked, startled. "What...Jerry's not, I mean...with Bobby?"

"Jesus," Fowler laughed and shook his head. "No, no I mean after Bobby took in this kid, it wasn't long till Jerry got his dismissal. First thought I had was how could things change so fast, huh? Bobby runs this goddamned town, we can't touch him, can't make one charge stick, but suddenly his right hand man is kicked out? Smells rotten, hm?"

"I suppose it does," Green murmured. He opened the folder and skimmed through Jerry's file. "They met up in juvie, doesn't that figure. I swear...Bobby is a fucking one off. Never gonna see someone like him in the next life time, I tell you, Fowler, fuckin' Robin Hood in the streets."

Fowler rolled his eyes. "Uh huh, 'cept for the fact that he doesn't wear tights...that we know of..."

"You don't get it. They see him as a godfather, a...a superstar..."

"Ghetto superstar," Fowler snarked. "Yeah yeah, he's the best thing since Jesus to crawl outta the gutters. Stop kissing his ass, you're not on payroll with him."

"Shut the fuck up," Green snapped. He narrowed his eyes at him before lowering his gaze to the papers. "I say we pay Jeremiah a visit an' see why he fell into bad graces. And this kid...Jack, we need to know some shit, now. What the fuck kind of power does this guy have that Sweet was willing to risk his life over?"

Fowler's smirk faded a little. "You know, it's the weirdest goddamn thing...I ran the kid's name through our databases and nothing came up."

"So? Maybe he doesn't have a record."

"I dunno, it doesn't add up. I'm gonna run a check to see if he has a juvie file. Won't see shit in it, but if it comes up..."

Green closed the folder and eyed him levelly. "You got your contacts, I got mine. I say we get to it. This Jack, of no last name, of no fucking info didn't just pop up in the streets a few weeks ago. And Bobby...he's gonna rip this city apart, you know that, him and his fucking vengeance against Sweet. Stop this shit storm before he loses it completely."

Fowler raised one eyebrow, amused. "A lot like the godfather, ain't it?"

"Shut up."

X

Evan waited at the table, drumming his fingers absently. He watched the people around the diner, his patience beginning to wear thin. With a sigh, he took his phone out and checked the time, then his messages. None still. He frowned and resumed looking around.

"Sorry, man," Angel muttered to the person he bumped into as he walked up the aisle to the booth. "Evan..."

"Can't be on time t' save your life."

Angel flashed a tight grin at him. "You know it. What's with the call? On my way t' pick up Em. Bobby ain't takin' no chances with her while he's...busy."

Evan looked behind Angel, to the side and then at him. "Sit first."

"Fine," Angel slid into the booth and leaned in close. "Spill Evan..."

"I got a tip for Bobby, heard some shit about the kid," Evan spoke in low tones, looking away from Angel. "Tell him not to bother with houses."

Angel stared at him. "Y' shitting me? Who'd you hear from?"

Evan grimaced and flicked a glance at him. "Don't ask, I don't need their blood on m' hands, Angel."

"You want your own blood spilled? Bobby finds out ya knew 'bout Jack, he's gonna put you under the ice."

"No, I didn't know they was gonna take him," Evan hissed. He looked to the waitress wandering past them and waited a beat. He leaned in real close to Angel, the words fast and near whispered. "I didn't know, I jus' took a fuckin' guess. Sweet's usin' Jack for leverage, he knows Bobby's gone and flipped his shit for the kid, s' a distraction is all, he knows it, we all know it. Take Bobby out, an' he moves in, clear? Get Em some place safe, get y' self outta here, cause he's gonna take ev'ryone out if it means fuckin' Bobby over."

Angel swallowed. "That puny lil' fucker," he muttered under his breath.

"Tell Bobby what I said, leave my name outta it. I got my own family to protect."

Angel rubbed a hand over his chin. "How many warehouses does Sweet got?"

X

*line about expectant father from Meatballs :) *


	17. Chapter 17

Title: Strays 17/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Pairing: Bobby/Jack

Rating: R

Summary: What's it all worth when you're alone?

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.

Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.

**Please be advised that this story does contain language which may offend some readers. **

X

"You think he's gonna bolt?" Fowler asked. He ran two fingers over his tie, smoothing the faint wrinkles out of it. "He might've already if he knows half of what we know."

Green watched the numbers on the screen flash higher and higher in the elevator. It figured that Jerry would live in the penthouse condo suites. "He won't."

"How do you know?"

"I know Jerry. Man's a lotta things, but he isn't a coward. He won't run."

Fowler nodded. "Looks like he's done well by cozyin' up to Mercer. Places like this don't come cheap."

Green glanced at him. "Don't be impressed. Places like this are bought with blood money." He resumed staring at the digital numbers as the elevator whisked them higher into the sky. Sofi's words echoed, nagging at his memory. Fourth Street...He frowned deeply. Just how many places did Sweet own?

"I got a contact working on finding all his properties. Looks doubtful that he would have used his own name on all of them. You got an area or are we searchin' blind?"

Green blinked. "Uh, yeah, I got a tip, source told me about some warehouses on Fourth."

"Fourth?" Fowler's lip curled. "Jesus..."

"S' the area he'd have places. Guys like him don't trade illegals in nice neighborhoods. He'll blend with his surroundings."

Fowler shrugged. "He could be cocky enough to do it, sure he could."

"Victor Sweet never does nothin' like what you'd expect. Malcolm left one hell of a legacy when he washed up on shore. With Victor, you'd best believe he's got big fucking plans an' delusions of grandeur."

The door pinged open at the final floor. Fowler looked a touch queasy when they stepped out of the elevator, greeted by tall windows that showcased the city below them. "Forty goddamn floors up," he muttered. "Long way to fall."

"Keep that in mind," Green elbowed him and strode down the hallway. The entire penthouse was split into only two condos, one of which was Jerry's. He looked to Fowler and nodded, knocking loudly on the heavy wood door.

Silence greeted them. Green knocked again and leaned in, listening. "Jeremiah Williams?"

"Told you he woulda bolted," Fowler said under his breath.

Green ignored him. He knocked once more and then stood back. "Footsteps."

Heels clicked behind the door. "Who is this?" a female voice demanded.

"Lieutenant Green and Detective Fowler with the Detroit Police Department, I need to speak with Jeremiah. It's to do with Bobby Mercer."

Another prolonged moment of silence before several locks and chains slid out of place. The door opened a crack and the woman's eyes, narrowed in suspicion, peered out at them. "Prove it."

Fowler glared at her. "Look lady, we're not some grab ass security guards..."

Green waved him off. "Shut the fuck up. I'm sorry to bother you, Miss, but I need to speak to Jeremiah. I know he was in business with Bobby. Is he here?"

She stared back at them, her glossy lips pursed in disapproval. "He's not here, _officers_."

"Do you know when he'll be back? This is urgent."

She flicked a glance at them. "Soon..."

"Do you mind if we come in and wait?" he said, pushing the door open with his forearm, not waiting for her to refuse.

She took several steps back and then turned and walked away from the door, heels clacking again on the tiled floor. "Make yourselves right at home," she said over her shoulder. She picked up a cell phone from the table and turned away, whispering into it and snapping it shut..

Fowler closed the door behind them. "Charming lil' thing, isn't she?"

"You shut up an' let me deal with this," Green whispered. He followed behind her. "I didn't catch your name."

"Camille," she said. She sat down on the plush couch and crossed her legs, her skirt slipping a little over her shapely calves. She watched them, a hint of distrust in her eyes. "What's he done, what's that damned man got mine into now?"

Green sat on a chair across from her, nodding to Fowler to sit. "Do you mean Bobby Mercer?"

She rolled her eyes. "Like anyone else could make Jerry jump like a trained puppy. Course I mean him. What's he done now?"

"Has Jerry mentioned anything to you lately about Bobby?"

She leaned back against the cushions, anger sparking in her eyes. "He let him go. Like anyone else can run his 'empire' like Jerry. He's gonna crash an' crash hard."

Fowler took out a pad and pen from his coat pocket. "You're saying Jerry was more than a partner? That he took care of...things?"

"Did I say that?" she snapped at him. "No, I didn't, so you go on and write that down."

"Camille," Green interrupted smoothly. "You're aware that Bobby and Jerry had a fallin' out, obviously, but what we need to know is if Jerry ever discussed business with you. We've had some upheaval with Bobby and someone named Victor Sweet. Does that name sound familiar?"

Her eyes widened a little. "N-No..."

Fowler opened his mouth to speak, then closed it at the elbow to his side from Green. "I think maybe he mentioned Sweet to you, maybe even in passing? This is serious, Camille. Jerry's life might be in danger."

"And then where will you be? Back on the street corners?" Fowler got out.

Camille moved to stand, fury surging through her. "Oh, he did not call me a whore!" she shouted.

Green was up fast, holding her arms carefully. "No, no, you ignore him, listen to me, ok? Listen to me...C'mon, look at me now," he soothed, drawing her attention again. "He's new, he don't know better, you tell me what you know an' we'll get Jerry and you someplace safe."

She shivered. "Safe from who? Sweet or Mercer?"

X

He drove past another building, his car at a steady thirty down the road. Each building looked nearly the same, rundown and unused. Many had broken windows and trampled wire fencing. Bobby pitched a cigarette out the window and exhaled. "Fuckin' Motor City," he muttered. These buildings, these areas had scared and protected him on many a night. He frowned and grabbed his cell phone from the passenger seat where it lay, chirping at him.

"What?"

"Met up with someone," the wind caught Angel's voice, distorting it. "No houses, Bobby, don't bother there."

Bobby's brow furrowed. "Who?"

"Never mind on who. Meet up with me, I got an idea where we can look."

"I wanna know who snitched on Sweet, y' hear me, Angel?" Bobby shouted, his restraint thin over his anger. "I wanna know what the fuck is goin' on!"

Angel sighed. "Later man, later. I got Em back home. She said t' doctors still got nothin' on Lucy's gettin' better."

Bobby clenched his teeth, raw anger bubbling, hatred burning through veins. "House locked up?" he managed to ask without screaming.

"Yeah, she's safe, got everythin' she needs. She said t' tell you t' come home an' sleep in case your head blows up or some shit."

"I'm fine," he said automatically. He gripped the steering wheel with one hand and pulled over to the side of the road, resting his head to the cool leather of the wheel. His head was pounding, there was no escaping that. He swallowed and pushed at the pain, willing it to fade. "Angel, you gotta meet with me soon. The longer we wait..."

Angel sighed again. "Don't even think it, Bobby."

Bobby closed his eyes, furious tears prickling under his eyelids. "Meet on Persanth and South, hurry the fuck up. I promised him he'd be safe, damn it! You don't...We hafta find him, I swear I'll take them all out to find him."

"We'll find him. Meet with you in thirty. Just...breathe, Bobby. Breathe..."

X

Green got the call an hour or so after they left Jerry's condo, Camille's information tucked away in his book. He exhaled heavily in the car, his attention miles away. Detective Fowler drove the car, his lips thinned with great disapproval. Green looked at him and shook his head.

"You don't rile up your witnesses, Fowler. That's entry level shit, you oughta know better!"

Fowler snorted. "Who gives a shit. She's no better than any other street walking whore."

Green glared at him. "Shut your fucking mouth. If you can't treat ev'rybody with the same respect, no matter what they do, then you're in the wrong business, boy."

"I ever tell you that you're my civil rights hero?" Fowler drawled. "The fucking wind beneath my rookie wings."

"Shut up an' drive." Green pointed to the road as his cell went off. "Make it quick, I'm on the road," he said, tucking the phone under his chin. "Yeah...Weston? You know there's beat guys for this right? So call them an' tell them t' handle this, I got bigger shit to do right now."

Green fell silent, grim resignation tightening his mouth. "Yeah..." he closed the phone and let it slip onto his lap. "We got a body to see."

"The fuck? Aren't we kinda, oh I don't know, trying to keep a blood war from happening right now?"

Green rubbed a hand over his face. "Contact says this is tied in. Bobby's executions, boy keeps to a pattern."

"All this info on the shit he does, and is the man behind bars? No sir," Fowler grumbled under his breath as he drove. "Weston and what?"

"Do I really need to explain lack of evidence to you? Weston and Keale...off the side street."

"Oh for Christ's sake! We all know what he does, everyone knows!"

Green smirked a little. "Knowin' an' provin' is two different things. Make it quick, we don't got a lot of time here."

X

"Bobby..." Jack shifted on the cold cement floor, shivering violently. His leather jacket was no match for the chill of the building and the harsh temperatures outside. He clenched his teeth and tried to sit up, a short sob escaping him at the fresh burst of pain in his ribs.

"Fuckin' hell," he bit at his split lips and waited for the sharp stabbing pains to ebb, tears running down his cheeks. He touched one hand to his jacket, nudging the material out of the way. Under his shirt, he could feel his clammy skin, feel the goosebumps. He moaned a little. "Broken? Please God..." he whispered. "Let them be cracked or somethin'..."

Jack looked over at the door, cringing at the sound of distant footsteps. Caught like a mouse, he thought with a hysterical giggle.

When no footsteps came any closer, he exhaled. "Bobby, man, now would be good for a miracle," Jack closed his eyes, a tiny smile forming. "Know you can...if you want me..."

He sighed and curled up, shifting his left arm, pins and needles prickling up and down his skin. He couldn't see much of anything in the darkened room. There were a few dirty windows high above him, what looked like boxes off to one side and piping up along the wall he was chained to. He squinted, peering at the walls, struggling to ignore the growing panic inside. "Don't...don't even think about it, no cuffs, no tied down, no bad boy today," he chanted, his smile fading away. "Bobby...Jesus, please don't let me fucking die like this. I ain't all bad..."

He licked at his lips again, trembling anew. What was it Victor Sweet had said? Using him to lure Bobby...Jack hung his head, "Lucy...Lucy girl." He felt a surge of hatred for Sweet and closed his eyes. "Fuckin' prick...Usin' us like some kinda pawns..."

Jack drifted for some time, half asleep, half awake, in a floating daze of pain and overwhelming panic. Through numb lips, he began to sing, nearly whispering. "When I find myself in times of trouble...Mother Mary comes to me...speaking words of wisdom..." his voice cracked.

Jack swallowed and gave in to the tiny, frightened sobs that he couldn't ignore any longer.

X


	18. Chapter 18

Title: Strays 18/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Pairing: Bobby/Jack

Rating: R

Summary: What's it all worth when you're alone?

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.

Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.

**Please be advised that this story does contain language which may offend some readers. **

X

Evan watched Jerry pace the length of the room. He'd never seen Jerry look so flustered, so agitated ever before. He shifted in his seat, uncomfortably aware of the rumors that had spread like wildfire when Ryan Mitchell's body had been found. A new wave of fear was spreading fast, Bobby's retribution was legendary. "How's it feel t' be on Mercer's hit list?"

Jerry laughed and the sound was sharp and brittle. "How does it feel? It feels like I'm livin' on motherfucking borrowed time!" He paced a moment more and then dropped into a nearby chair, in the sparsely decorated office space that Jerry owned downtown. "He destroyed that kid. Did ya hear me, Evan? He fucking _destroyed_ him. Christ knows they'll be lucky to I.D him by dental records! I have t' get Camille outta here, I gotta get outta here."

Evan nodded. "You'd best help find the kid then, 'fore Bobby finds you."

"If I knew where he was, I would, don't you realize that?"

He shrugged. "Maybe, or maybe you're playin' your cards an' seeing how they fall."

"You have just as much to lose, Evan. I know you an' Dwayne still meet up. You know how Bobby feels about traitors."

"Compare me t' you, I think I come out on top," Evan raised an eyebrow at him. "And y' see, Jerry, the thing is that maybe Mercer suspects ev'ryone, an' maybe he thinks we all wanna take him down. Truth is, too many do. Not me. I ain't cut out t' run shit but my own family. I got a few names for him, if you wanna play the hero an' give him the names, I won't pay no mind."

Jerry stared at him. "You'd do that? What the...why?"

Evan took a cigarette package out. He shook one loose and lit it with his lighter, Jerry's gaze never leaving his face. He took a deep inhale and offered him a small smile. "Cause I don't wanna see no more deaths. This city's blood red. Mercer, God knows I work for him, but he won't stop, he won't listen, an' these young ones, they die first. Sweet brought this down an' we pay for it. Guys like me, we're dispensable. Forgettable. But my family, they ain't gonna let me be forgotten, so I'll do this. You promise me one thing, Jeremiah."

He nodded. "Yeah, yeah anything, Evan."

"Don't you let the kid die, you hear me loud n' clear?"

Jerry blinked and tilted his head. "That fucking kid," he muttered. "You'd swear he was Jesus or somethin'."

Evan smoked silently for several seconds. "He's an innocent. We all were once, Jerry, at one time or 'nother."

X

"Oh Jesus Christ," Fowler covered his mouth with one hand and winced. He stepped back from the side of the building. "That's fucking disgusting."

Green knelt close to the beat cop, his face grim. "Burn marks along the cheekbones, most of the face, bruising on the neck, blade used on ears, mouth and eyes...using the lighter on the eyelids. Hands burned, self defense, held them up," he chewed on the inside of his cheek, frowning. "No prints, huh?"

"No sir," the cop shook his head. His name tag bore the last name Fraser. He looked a touch queasy himself. "I'd say the perp wore gloves. There's bruising to indicate choking, finger-like shaped bruises but no prints visible."

"Any I.D found yet?" Green jotted the details down on his notepad, the lines on his face deepening with each minute, his frustration growing at a rapid rate.

"No sir. Found a burnt wallet, nothing left in it but blackened cards." The cop stood up and draped the sheet over the corpse.

Green stood as well. "Send the autopsy report to me, usual shit, y' know what to do."

"Yes sir," Fraser nodded.

Green flipped the notebook shut and tucked it into his pocket. "Ya need some tissue, Fowler?"

"Oh fuck you," Fowler scowled at him. "That was nasty. What kind of sick fuck does things like that?"

"A sick fuck who's lost what fragile control he had," Green muttered. He headed back to the car, dialing away on his cell phone. "Glen...yeah, it's me. What you got on the kid's name? You gotta give me somethin', he has t' exist somewhere...Yeah, alright, fine, email me, I'll pick it up soon."

Fowler walked alongside him, wiping at his mouth. "Now tell me again why Mr. Mercer ain't bein' tailed? This is his handiwork, is it not?"

Green snorted, his breath puffing out in small white clouds, the wind cutting through his coat easily. "Oh it was him, all right. I know it like I know my name. I told you, no prints, no case. Nothin' to tie him to our victim."

"But you _know_ it," Fowler persisted. "If you know it, half of Detroit knows it."

"You can't stand the idea of Bobby bein' free, huh? He does so much good for the city, never mind the underground shit. Things could always be worse, my friend. Without Evelyn Mercer, Bobby would be worse than Sweet."

Fowler rolled his eyes. "Worse than Sweet, I doubt that."

"Get over the fact that Bobby runs the city an' you'll deal a whole lot better."

"I'll deal when he's peddlin' his ass behind bars," Fowler said as he got into the car.

Green slid in as well. "Big dogs start out bitches. Head t' the office, I got some info comin' in."

X

Bobby walked up the alleyway, his eyes on the shadowy figure leaning against the dirty brick wall. He took quick steps, the sounds muffled by the thick layer of snow between the buildings. He palmed the gun at his side, ignoring the prickle of awareness that he supposed was his conscience, a voice in his head that sounded far too much like Evelyn. He set his teeth, ignoring it along with the pulses of pain radiating through his skull.

_...anger and hatred..._

He slipped his thumb over the gun, releasing the safety, stumbling for a half second.

_...and vengeance leads to what, Bobby?_

"Not now Ma," he mumbled. He crept closer, bringing his hand up, his eyebrows narrowed in concentration.

_...what's left after all the anger and hatred and vengeance, Bobby?_

He swallowed the flurry of words that threatened to give away his position in the alleyway. "For him..."

_...you'll hurt still..._

Bobby pressed the gun to the exposed neck of the man before him, a horrible smile creeping over his face. "You shout, I shoot, clear?"

The man stiffened, a choked gasp catching in his throat. "...ungh," he managed, staring straight ahead.

"I'm lookin' for somethin' real important," Bobby wrapped his gloved hand around the neck of the man. He pressed the muzzle of the gun down harder. "Y' see, Victor Sweet took somethin' of mine. Stealin's very wrong, ain't that right?"

He nodded several times, his chest hitching. "I...Mercer..." he darted his eyes to the side, catching a glimpse of Bobby behind him. "Don't...look, I know someone, he knows some shit, I don't know much a nothin', y' know? Jus' shit on the street..."

Bobby pinched down with his fingers, cutting off the rambled speech. "Who?"

He gasped and waited, his eyes watering. "I...I..."

Bobby snarled and slammed the gun upside his head. The man dropped to the snow covered ground with a pained cry. "Don't....Don't fuckin' kill me, I got a kid comin', my girl's due soon," he pleaded, shame and desperate fear etched on his face.

"Well then, it would be a damn shame, wouldn't it, if I found out y' weren't tellin' me everything I wanted t' know?" Bobby cocked the gun and smiled. "Answer me fast or your baby's never gonna know his daddy."

_...Bobby..._

"D-Dwayne...Dwayne Thompson!"

He glared down at the man and trained his gun on him. "Tell me where Dwayne is."

The man nodded, never doubting him for a second. "Y-yeah, yeah you got it, Mercer. He's...Dwayne's with Sweet's guys, they work the ten's an' l-lower, s'all I know, but he was talkin' shit 'bout some kid they took."

Bobby hissed out another snarl, murderous rage clouding his face. "WHERE?!"

"I-I, don't...I dunno, Dwayne knows, he does, he does!" he yelped as Bobby backhanded him. "God, please, I'm fucking beggin' ya..."

"Get up!" he fisted his hand in the man's jacket and dragged him up to his feet. "We're goin' for a walk to see Dwayne."

_...history's mistakes come back to haunt us, son. It's how you deal with it that matters..._

Bobby flinched. "I'm dealin', alright," he spat.

X

"Tell me you got me something worth the effort I went to for you this time, Green."

Green set the cup of coffee down on the desk and nudged it forward. "There ya are, premium roast, and that's worth it's weight in gold, in fact, so tell me I don't treat you good." He grinned at the man across the desk. "You meet my rookie yet? This here is Fowler. Fowler, this is my man I rely on for what I need, the all mighty Glen Jacobson."

"Your rook's looking a touch pale," Glen sent a crooked grin back. "See any bodies lately?"

Fowler gave them both a sour look. "Hah fucking hah, ladies."

Green tapped the desk with two fingers. "We got a call, has to do with this...business. Enough messin' around, tell me what you got, an' please say you got somethin' to go on. This body count is already too high."

Glen leaned forward and took the coffee cup. He took a long swallow and sighed, satisfied. "Perfection. Alright, your boy, Bobby has a hard on for this kid, so, first I looked through my books, see if any faces matched your description."

"I already did that," Fowler huffed.

"But you don't got the connections I got, rook." Glen took another sip. "I checked with my guy in Juvie files and we had a few dozen Jacks over the last twenty years. You know we don't get much outta them usually, but see, this Jack, oh people remember this Jack, indeed."

Green blinked. "Remember him why?"

"This Jack got himself into a bit of trouble, quite the record or so I hear."

"Wait a second, juvie records are sealed," Fowler cut in. "How the fuck do you know about before?"

Glen watched him over the rim of his cup, amused. "I have my ways. Anyway, Jack indeed has a last name. He's got a record longer than my arm, in an' outta detention halls, foster homes, seems he never really fit in any place. The guy remembers him, scrawny lil' thing, had a thing with music, taught himself to play the guitar while my guy was working there. Pretty boy, you know the type. Older boys had a blast, I'm sure."

Fowler winced. "Good God..."

"How wet behind the ears is this kid?" Glen jerked a thumb at Fowler. "You that new? You never watched 'Oz'?"

Green stifled a laugh. "So what happened that Jack stands out so much?"

"Something happened in the rooms one night, boys doin' what they will and Jack just...kinda lost it. They found him in the middle of the room, in a rage, he nearly killed one of the other boys. They kept him handcuffed till the morning cause he kept attacking anyone that came near him. Poor kid," he shook his head and sipped his coffee, contemplating his words.

Green exhaled, rubbing his head. "Fuck...Bobby sure can pick 'em."

Fowler clapped his hands once, nodding. "Ok, so that's that, but what in the hell does Victor Sweet have to do with the kid?"

"Pretty simple," Glen shrugged. "Sweet wants what Bobby's got. Power, control, stuff like that. Guys like Bobby, like Victor, they're an awful lot like little boys. Only with a shitload of weapons. Makes them a whole lot fucking more dangerous, rookie."

"So he steals the kid?"

Glen smiled and slurped the last of his coffee. He looked at the empty cup, regretful, and crumpled it, tossing it to the garbage can. "Looks like it."

"Shit, I coulda told all you guys that," Green pinched the bridge of his nose. "You might as well wave a fucking red flag in front of Bobby."

"Yee haw..." Fowler drawled. "Let the pair of them kill each other."

"Damn it, Fowler! This is serious! Jack is what we need to keep Bobby from leveling the city! Sweet knew exactly what he was doin' when he sent his men out."

Fowler flinched at the furious outburst from Green and sighed, backing down . "So what do we do? How do stop the one guy that even the cops won't touch? And how many of you guys are on his pay roll anyway?"

Glen smirked. "More than you'd think."

"Blows my damn mind..."

Green looked out the window of the cramped office, fresh snow falling in lazy swirls outside. "Thanks Glen, I really appreciate you doin' all this so fast for me."

"Anytime Green, anytime. Long as you bring the coffee."

Fowler and Green stood to leave. "Oh before you go," Glen said casually, " The kid's last name is Donnelly."

Green froze mid-step. "Donnelly..."

"Yep."

"You're sure?"

Glen raised one eyebrow a little. "When am I wrong, huh?"

"Donnelly..." Green all but whispered as he hurried from the room.

"You mind tellin' me what the fuck is going on, Green? Why do you look like someone goosed you good?"

Green reached back and yanked on Fowler's arm, bringing him up fast beside him. "Walk faster."

"I'm not asking again, man."

"Shut up for a minute!" He turned a corner and pushed open the door to the left, rows of gunmetal gray filing cabinets, each marked alphabetically. On the one marked with series of D's, Green pulled the drawer open and rifled through the files. He selected one and slapped it into Fowler's hands. "C'mon," he said, hurrying back to his own office.

Fowler jogged to keep up with him, grumbling all the way. "Alright, enough with the drama, what the hell is going on?"

Green searched through his own files on his computer, ignoring him. He typed out a message, his fingers pounding over the keyboard. He sent the message and sat back, his eyes wide. "The Donnelly's don't ring a bell, you woulda been a young teen back then, what, like twelve, thirteen tops? You never heard of them, ever?"

He sat down on the chair by the desk and opened the folder. "I wasn't raised here, not downtown at least."

Green gestured to the folder. "Read on. The Donnelly's were what Victor Sweet wishes he was. They ran parts of the city, had run-ins with other gangs, turf wars, blood wars, whatever the fuck you want to call it. Fourteen years ago, there was a massive fire on the outskirts of downtown. Took out a few warehouses, and two slum buildings. Christopher Donnelly, leader of the gang, had a son. He was the only survivor. Cops found him a few blocks away from the blaze."

"And...?"

"That fire wiped out the gang effectively. Any people that were left were taken under the wing of someone else, someone who had intentions on controlling each and every gang, in one way or another. The kid, the only one left from the family was tossed into foster care. Jack, Jack Donnelly."

"I repeat...and?"

"D' you think that fire was accidental, Fowler?"

Fowler lifted his gaze from the folder. "Lemme take a stab in the dark and say no."

"Chris Donnelly and Bobby Mercer never saw eye to eye on how things should run."

"But...that's...Bobby would have been...he's not that old? Right?"

Green gave him a weary smile. "Yeah, he was all of sixteen and already had a rep for bein' a fire bug."

X


	19. Chapter 19

Title: Strays 19/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Pairing: Bobby/Jack

Rating: R

Summary: What's it all worth when you're alone?

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.

Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.

**Please be advised that this story does contain language which may offend some readers. **

X

"Pick up...c'mon man, pickup," Jerry sped down the road, his car weaving between lanes, the snow slowing his progress. He held the cell phone to his ear and stomped on the brakes, narrowly avoiding a car turning left. "Fuck!"

"You got some nerve callin' me..."

Jerry gripped the wheel, his heart racing as fast as the car. "Bobby, you gotta listen now, it's about Jack, for the love of God, don't hang up!"

Bobby paused and Jerry felt his heart skip a beat. "The fuck do you know about him?"

He swerved again and licked his lower lip. "Sweet...he told me."

"If I was you, I would disappear," Bobby said, his voice whisper quiet, the voice of pure rage. "You knew, didn't you? That he was gonna do this..."

"I...Bobby, y' gotta believe me, I didn't know until right before he sent them."

Bobby let out a sound, a harsh bark of hateful laughter. "Do you know what I'm gonna do t' you...Oh God, I hope for your sake, you disappear this second...if I get my hands on that paid pussy of yours, I'm gonna make you watch me rip her apart, I'm gonna blow her fucking brains out and set her on motherfucking fire! D' ya get that? YOU HEAR ME?!"

Jerry gripped the phone, his fingers greasy with sweat. "Don't you touch her, she ain't got nothin' to do with Jack or...or us."

"Uh huh, tit for tat, my _friend_. I lose Jack, you lose your whore."

"I can get him for you! I swear it! I know who's watchin' over him, I know who helped take him," Jerry babbled, switching lanes and sliding in the snow, his eyes nearly bulging with fear. "I promise, don't hurt her, don't fucking do it, she's as innocent as Jack. Don't be Sweet, don't be like him!"

Bobby was silent for a long moment, one that stretched on for light years or so it seemed to Jerry. "Who has him?"

"He's bein' watched in the warehouses, somewhere between Third and Seventh, I've got a guy pickin' info for me, that's what I got so far."

"Not good enough, ya need t' try a little fucking harder, Jeremiah."

Jerry stepped on the gas and darted around a corner, his wheels spinning madly for several seconds. "Guy named Luke, 'nother one named...shit, what was his name...John or somethin', I don't know. I'm on my way t' the guy's house, see what else he found. Bobby, Bobby give me your word that Camille is off limits."

"She's only safe when he is!" Bobby snarled into the phone. "Find him or she's next."

Jerry winced, the sound of Bobby's phone cutting off a harsh distortion over the line. "....Shit..."

X

Green's car cruised along Fourth in the darkness, the white snow muted by the gritty faint lights of the street lamps high above. Fowler sighed, tapping his pen on a folder with no particular beat. "You sure you can trust the word of a hooker?"

"You're lucky Sofi ain't here t' hear you call her that," Green mumbled. He pulled the car to the side of the road. "She said the car was driving slow up Fourth. Look around, kid, does this look like the kind of place a person wanders through?"

Fowler wrinkled his nose. "Christ, no. These place makes me wanna grab a tetanus shot for the hell of it," he eyed the rundown buildings and rusted fencing everywhere. "Depressing as fuck out here."

"Right, so again...why would a car move slowly through here?" Green stared off into the distance at several darkened buildings. "Unless they were droppin' someone off an' looking for the address."

Fowler considered that and nodded. "Ok, so you made your point. These properties are owned, right? I got a list of ones that Sweet owns in his name, so what? That means we need to get the official paperwork to even enter each of these hellholes."

"Already on it." Green cut the engine and looked around. "I'm bettin' dollars to donuts, Bobby don't know exactly which Jack he had."

"No shit, huh? Or maybe he did and thought it was _real_ funny that he was fuckin' the son of his rival."

Green glared at him. "Shut up. I don't...I don't think so though." He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a second, thinking. "When I went t' his office, right after the attack, he didn't seem to know Jack's last name. Jerry didn't either. An' Jerry always knew about everything Bobby was or wasn't doin'."

"What a coincidence then..."

"Jack's young, real young. File says he's just legal...how much do you 'member about bein' five, Fowler?"

Fowler shook his head and grinned. "Truth? Not a whole lot. I remember my first bike, I remember goin' to my great grandmother's house, Christ, she must have been a hundred, if she was a day, hair all over her chin too. Ugh. Anyway..."

"What I'm wonderin', is why Jack didn't tell Bobby his last name. Calls himself Jack, never elaborates...Could he remember his own father dealin' with Bobby?" Green sighed a long, winded sigh. "Damn it...Jack had t' have known who Bobby is. Most everybody you talk to, they all know him. So..why?"

Fowler drummed his pen again. "Maybe he found out just what his last name represented. I wouldn't be fucking bragging if my last name was Donnelly. Or Mercer, for that matter."

"The Donnelly's were like...street royalty. In that kind of way, it was a thing of respect, once upon a time, but Christopher Donnelly was no saint. He was vicious. You remember Malcolm Sweet? The files I got you workin' on?"

Fowler nodded. "Yeah...yeah, I read 'em all."

"Malcolm and Christopher were practically partners. Never met a pair of more cutthroat, vicious devils ever since. Victor is a pale imitation, kid." Green stared out into the road. "Bobby didn't like how things were bein' handled. At sixteen, he wanted t' take control and bring some changes. And he did. And then some."

"You gonna warn Bobby?"

Green blinked and then frowned. "Think I should. He's gotta know one way or the other. Givin' Mercer bad news is never fun. Bein' the messenger is dangerous sometimes."

X

"Wake up!"

Jack lifted his head, hissing out a tiny breath at the pain that shot up and down his neck. He stared up at the large man that loomed over him. "Don't s'pose you had a change of heart in the night?" he croaked, his lips cracked and painfully dry.

His head jerked to the side, a slap his answer. Coppery blood spilled over his tongue and lips. Jack shuddered, disgusted by the taste.

"Keep that up, and I'll staple your fuckin' mouth shut, kid!" Luke growled. He shoved a bottle of water at Jack. "Drink it."

Jack stared back at him. "I...I can't, the lid's still on."

Luke muttered under his breath and opened the bottle, shoving it at him again. Jack clutched at the bottle with his one free hand. He took small sips, wincing at the pain that flashed through his stiff body. Luke stood over him, arms crossed, a ugly glare on his face. "Hurry up, I gotta better shit t' do today."

Jack shifted away from him, eyes wary. He took another sip. "Can I keep it?" he whispered.

"Yeah." Luke turned away and grabbed a crumpled brown paper bag from one of the boxes. He dropped it in front of Jack. "Eat. Last thing I need is you dyin' an' stinkin' up the place."

"Would that bring the property value down?"

Luke slapped him again. "I got no problems keepin' you drugged, ya fucking faggot, so if I was you, I'd shut the fuck up."

Jack cringed, tears prickling under his eyelids. "Sorry." He set the water bottle down by his side. He eyed the bag, large grease stains creeping up one side of it. "Um...thanks."

Luke grunted and walked away. "Just shut up an' we'll get along fine."

He waited until the door closed before shuddering. "The service here is awful," he said with a rusty chuckle. He shifted a bit, a small moan leaving him at the pull in his ribs with the motion. "Could make a damned list for injuries..."

Jack opened the bag, taking out the wrapped burger. With painstakingly careful movements, he unwrapped it and nibbled at the burger, cursing the inability to use his left arm. He picked at the food, his stomach churning and twisting uncomfortably. He swallowed, the food like ashes in his mouth. "Bobby..." He closed his eyes, willing the tears to go away.

It was hard, harder than he thought, to keep the tears at bay. He wanted to scream, to rage at the unfairness of everything. He swallowed again, his stomach trying to rebel against the greasy food he'd ingested. "Not right at all..." He wiped at his eyes with his hand, wiping at the dried blood smears. "Damn it, Bobby...You gotta come...Don't do this t' me..."

Luke pushed the door open, sneering at him. "You cryin' for 'im? Waste of time, y' know. Maybe he'll come, probably won't."

"Fuck you," Jack whispered. He sniffed quickly and looked away from him, his anger surging up once more. "You don't know shit."

Luke chuckled and strolled over towards him. "I know who ya are though."

Jack stilled. He lifted his chin, his mouth a tight line of anger. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, ya don't look that much like y' daddy, but I hear that whore of a mother of yours had a cocksucker's mouth, jus' like you."

Jack glared hatefully back at him. "You shut the fuck up!"

"Or else what?" Luke pointed to the wall. "Y' ain't goin' very far, chained up like the bitch puppy you are. Now, sit Jack, sit like a good puppy, make that long dead daddy proud."

"Fuck you!" Jack shouted, straining to move towards him despite the immediate flash of pain. "You son of a bitch! C'mere an' say that!"

"Easy there, Jackie," Luke sneered and laughed more, enjoying the rage on Jack's face. "Y'd make a sad member. Maybe it's better this way."

Jack growled and yanked on his handcuff, angry tears burning at his eyes. "You don't know nothin'!"

"Oh but I know somethin' you don't. I know somethin' Bobby don't. But most of all, I know who you are. Jack, little Jack Donnelly..."

Jack hung back against the wall, the fight draining out of him. "Shut up..."

"Bobby doesn't know....stupid fuck never bothered t' check, huh?"

"He doesn't need t' know. It's not important..." Jack mumbled and curled up as best he could, his head lowered.

Luke leaned against one of the boxes. "Y' don't say, hm? I think ol' Mercer would be very interested t' know who he's fuckin'."

Jack flinched at the crude laughter. "Why should he care? I'm no one important. Y' might wanna clue that Sweet guy t' the fact that I'm no one special. There wasn't any reason t' do all this."

"Besides drivin' Mercer nuts," Luke grinned, his bright teeth gleaming in the dark room. "Sweet knows...yeah he knows who y' are. Your daddy worked with his uncle, y' see. Ol' Malcolm Sweet an' Chris Donnelly, they go way the fuck back. Well..they did. Wonder what Mercer will say when he finds out."

"You...you're lyin'!" Jack whispered, horrified. He'd heard things over the years, jeers and taunts over his last name and had desperately ignored them, unwilling to believe it.

Luke simply stared back at him, still grinning. "Think so?"

Jack closed his eyes, sick to his stomach. He curled away, hiding his face, curled in a protective ball, his head pounding with what he imagined rivaled one of Bobby's migraines. "God, please," he choked out in a panic.

"Don't worry, I'm sure it don't run in the family," Luke laughed as he walked away, the door slamming shut behind him.

X

"Boy, I'ma sit on ya, if'n ya don't lie down an' rest this instant," Em huffed as she pointed her finger at Bobby. She didn't care for the lines that were grooved into his forehead, the way he seemed close to collapsing. "Ya haven't eaten in nearly 3 days, ya ain't been sleepin', don't ya shake y'r head at me, Boss man!"

Bobby moved past her, stripping his shirt off on the way to the bathroom. "I don't wanna hear it. If I did, I'd ask," he said, side stepping her. He stood in front of the mirror, tracing a dark bruise that covered part of his shoulder. Dwayne hadn't gone down easy. He stared at his reflection, hatred seeping from his pores. He wanted to smash the mirror, drive out the sound of Evelyn's voice in his head.

"Lord have mercy on ya, Bobby," she crossed herself at the sight of the bruises on his body. "Ya gonna die like this!"

He turned away and spun the hot and cold water taps, starting the shower. "Em, I swear I love you like I loved her, but right now, I'm gonna fucking blow up if ya don't back off," he said, on the verge of pleading.

Em dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief, nodding. "Boy, please, I'm frightened t' the ends for ya. I can't lose another, I can't, don't ask me t' stand by an' do it again."

He sighed, stripping off the rest of his bloodied and dirty clothes. "Burn those."

He stepped into the hot spray of water, the pulsing pain in his head making him want to throw up. "Jack..." a small sob passed his lips. His shoulders shook as he fought to stop the silent flow of tears.

Em gathered the clothes from the floor, her eyes wet. She set out a towel for him, mumbling prayers as she left the bathroom. Bobby rested his head to the cool tiles, rubbing at his weary face. He let the water pound away on his sore muscles, his body exhausted and deprived of food and sleep.

As if he were sleepwalking, he dried off after the shower, staring once more at himself in the large mirror along the wall. He stilled, touching his hand to his chest, his thumb following each of the detailed beads inked into his skin. His lips moved, speaking the words Evelyn had taught him, over and over, until he could say them in his sleep if needed.

He closed his eyes for a minute, steeling himself for what was needed. The only thing Dwayne had admitted to was what Jerry had told him not long after and that wasn't enough, not nearly enough. Each day had the reduced chances of getting Jack back unharmed. He tied the towel around his hips and picked up the cell phone Em had left on the counter from his pants.

Bobby dialed and waited, listening to the phone ring. When it connected, he swallowed, the words catching in his throat.

"Think it's time we met up, Victor."

X


	20. Chapter 20

Title: Strays 20/?

Author: veiledndarkness

Pairing: Bobby/Jack

Rating: R

Summary: What's it all worth when you're alone?

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.

Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.

**Please be advised that this story does contain language which may offend some readers. **

X

Angel sat in the backseat of the car with Bobby, a look of resignation on his face. He shifted his shoulders, rolling them. The tension in the vehicle was overpowering. "Y' know that Victor isn't gonna be a pushover, right?"

"Doesn't matter." Bobby stared out the window, his expression deceptively blank and calm. "I can't do this, I can't run around, searchin' for days. I wait too long...He'll kill him, I know he will." His voice caught and shook for a second. "Can't take that chance."

"This is fuckin' suicide. For all you know, the kid's already dead an' this is a death trap for you."

"The _kid's_ got a name!" Bobby snapped. "An' he's not dead, I know he's not."

Angel sighed. "Yeah, an' how do ya know that? Sweet promised you, huh? Bullshit."

"I have to believe he's not." Bobby closed his eyes, his forehead furrowed in pain. "Cause if he is..."

"Then what? You fall apart an' let some slimy little motherfucker like Victor Sweet take over? I'll eat my fucking gun 'fore I let him win like this."

Bobby glared at him. "You shut your mouth."

"Don't like hearin' the truth? You never did. Look how many times them boys hurt ya? How many times do you gotta get stabbed in the back b'fore ya start thinkin'?" Angel shook his head. "I ain't gonna stand by an' watch you go down like this."

Bobby looked away from him, his jaw clenched. "I'll take care of this."

"Uh huh..." Angel grunted, letting the conversation trickle off.

The car cut through the snow covered grounds, bringing them away from the house, deep into the city. Angel felt for the gun in his coat pocket, his eyes narrowed. Victor Sweet was someone he'd never trust to keep his word.

X

"Jerry, first, you need t' slow down, I can't hardly understand you," Green rested his head to one hand, slumped back in his chair. "Start from the top, man."

"Victor, he's got Jack on Fourth! I got word today, Green, go, go **now**, he's not plannin' on keepin' him there much longer, I think he's gonna kill him, for the love of fuckin' God, get him now!"

Green rubbed a circle on his temple with his thumb, afraid to get his hopes up. "I've got warrants drawn up, Jerry, we're headin' out t'day. You know which building?"

Jerry blew out a breath. "Jesus...I think it was near Fourth and Abrams, industrial, used to be a storage facility, no name on it, number 7938. You gotta go, Green, I talked t' Bobby, he's gonna take Camille out if Jack dies.."

"Fuckin' hell..." Green groaned. "I'll send a unit over to keep an eye on her. Where's Bobby right now?"

"I don't know, he won't answer his phone!" Jerry's voice trembled. "Please...she's all I got, don't let him kill her."

"Jerry, calm down," Green pointed to Fowler, standing up then. "We're on our way, take some deep breaths, ok? We'll find him. Keep callin' Bobby if you can...if we can head him off with this..."

"I will, I promise, just...hurry," with that, Jerry hung up.

Fowler put his coat on. "We got somethin'?"

Green nodded, his stomach coiling with unease. "It don't feel right, but yeah, c'mon, we're wastin' time. Jerry said somethin' about Sweet gettin' ready to take out Jack."

"Well that's fantastic," Fowler muttered. "I always wanted t' see what would happen when a crime lord goes fucking apeshit crazy."

Green tossed his coat on. "Yeah well, let's try an' make sure it don't get that far, huh?"

X

Luke kicked Jack, rousing him from his fitful sleep. "Get up, we're goin' for a visit," he said, yanking Jack up by a fistful of his hair.

"Ow, goddamn it!" Jack cried out, unwanted tears springing to his eyes. "That fucking hurts!"

"Aww, poor baby," Luke rolled his eyes. He shoved Jack up against the wall and snapped a handcuff on his free hand. Jack sucked in a gasp, his face pale. He swayed on his feet, dizzy with pain. In a blur of movements, Luke removed the handcuff attached to the wall pipes, re-locking it to Jack's wrists, binding his arms behind his back. He pushed him forward. "Walk."

Jack stumbled, dropping to his knees with a muted sob. "I'm tryin'," he mumbled, his shoulders hitching.

Luke gripped his arm, his fingers digging in cruelly. He dragged him forward, ignoring the gasps and pants for breath next to him. "Goin' for a visit," he said again. "Sweet needs ya t' make a point."

Icy cold fear ran down Jack's spine. He shuddered, nauseated. "God..."

Luke chuckled. "Ya best do what he wants, you 'member what happened t' that bitch at the house, m' sure."

Jack looked at him, enraged. "Her name was Lucy," he hissed. "Lucy, do ya hear me! Her fucking name was Lucy!" He spit on him as best he could, the small gob landing on Luke's cheek.

"Oh you fuckin' faggot!" Luke roared, his fist flying into Jack's face, sending him crashing down to the ground.

Jack hit the ground, tears running down to mix with the blood that flowed from his mouth and nose. He let out a hysterical laugh, his eyes glazed and bruised. He laughed and laughed, unaware of the blows falling on his body. Pain ran through him, his body one constant ache. He laughed harder until a vicious punch silenced him. He stared up at Luke, the tears falling silently then.

Luke panted, his fists covered with Jack's blood. He couldn't believe it, the fucking kid, that damned kid, laughing at him! He let out an unintelligible shout of fury. Jack closed his eyes, shaking, his tears choking him. Minutes ticked by before Luke leaned down and scooped him up. He slung Jack over his shoulder as he walked, completely unnerved by him.

Jack looked back at the room that had held him the last few days, the walls running, melting away as he was carried out by Luke. He closed his eyes, praying feverishly for Bobby to come for him even as the thought occurred that if he hadn't come by now, maybe...maybe he wasn't intending to, after all.

X

Fowler pushed his foot down on the gas pedal, swerving and avoiding the other people on the road expertly. Green held on to the side door of the car. "Fowler, I swear t' God, if you crash us, so help you."

"I'm not gonna crash, besides, no one's gonna ticket a cop," Fowler said, speeding them around another corner, row and row of factories and buildings in the distance. "I got years of practice for speed driving."

"On what? Grand Theft Auto? That don't fuckin' count!" Green gripped the door handle a bit tighter.

"Ha ha, so funny, you're hilarious, Boss, I ever tell you that?" Fowler dropped the gas pedal a little, slowing down as they neared the intersection of Fourth and Abrams. "Where's 7938?"

Green caught a glimpse of the numbers as they sped past some of the buildings. "There!"

Fowler slowed into the nearest parking lot, eyeing the building. "Christ..."

"Nice drivin' Ace, next time, you're in the passenger seat," Green wiped a hand over his face. He got out of the car, their back up car coming to a stop behind them. "Let's go."

Fowler jogged up behind him, squinting through the heavy drifts of snow. "The fuck...Look," he pointed to the snow covered stairs in front of the building. "Is that blood?"

Green's breath caught in his throat. He approached the stairs, hearing his heart beat echoing loudly in his ears. It was blood, droplets and streaks here and there. "Shit." He looked to the door, noting that it hung oddly, as though kicked open. "C'mon," he gestured to Fowler and drew his gun, palming it tightly.

Fowler nudged at the door with his boot, frowning. "Guessin' the door was knocked nearly down. Heavy boot kick."

"Prints are fresh, blood is too," Green took the flashlight from his coat and braced his arm over his gun, entering the building with extreme caution. The halls were dimly lit, small naked bulbs placed high up. The floors filthy and covered with loose tiles and boxes piled everywhere.

They made their way from room to room until they reached the last one. Green turned his head, feeling uneasy at the sight of more blood, droplets sprayed in various areas. A small bag of garbage sat off to one side, a white bucket with a lid nearby. Green took in a small breath and approached the pipes that ran along the wall. "Scratches in the metal...they kept him chained up here."

"Like a dog," Fowler muttered behind him. "Green, man, this isn't lookin' too promising. There's blood all over the place."

Green walked about the small room, his eyes half closed. "They moved him. Got wind that Jerry found out an' moved him 'fore we got here. He's too valuable t' be killed outright. Not yet, anyway. I'll bet ya Victor knows exactly who Jack is. Damn it!" he hit his fist off his hand, furious. "Damn it t' hell!"

Fowler touched one hand to the pipes. He shivered. They were icy cold. The whole room was cold, no warmer than the brutal winds outside. "Where ever they took him, it wasn't long ago. Blood's not dry yet, they haven't cleaned anythin', still loads of evidence in here. Get the guys in here, see if we can't find anythin' out, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, c'mon, I think I got an idea," Green walked away from the room, anger darkening his face.

X

"How long's he been here?" Victor got out of his car, his eyebrows knitted together in displeasure.

"Ten minutes," the man shrugged. "Waitin' in your office."

Victor laughed a bit. "A' right, I been lookin' forward to this for a long time." As he walked to the office, he smiled. He'd waited so goddamn long to have this moment, knowing that Bobby would be ready to cave. He puffed his chest out and strutted into the office, the door swinging shut behind his bodyguards.

Bobby stood by the windows, his face blank, but telltale signs gave Victor much amusement. Red-rimmed eyes, lines etched into his forehead, a tension to his mouth. He sighed inwardly, greatly pleased. His smile faded a little at the sight of Angel standing a foot behind Bobby, a gun clasped in his hand.

"Aren't we all gentlemen here, Bobby? You brought your attack dog t' a meeting? That offends me."

"Ain't that a shame?" Bobby turned to look at him. "See, I know your boys are carryin', so I made sure I wasn't empty handed neither. Fair's fair, am I right?"

Victor smiled tightly at him. "Have a seat, Bobby. I think we got lots t' talk about."

Bobby stepped away from the window and walked to the desk area. Angel moved behind him smoothly, his gaze trained on Victor. As Bobby sat, so did Victor. He nodded to the two men by the door and sat back in his chair. He smiled once more at Bobby. "So..."

"Cut the bullshit, Victor. Where is he?"

Victor raised an eyebrow. "Who?'

Bobby stared back at him. "I'm warnin' you once an' once only. Do not fuck with me."

"I don't like warnings," Victor murmured. "S' not a polite way t' talk."

"Where is Jack?"

Victor stretched his hands out on the arm rests of his chair. "He's safe. Well...safe enough."

Bobby looked ready to explode, he noted with satisfaction. "What the hell do you want, Victor? Huh?"

"I want a lot of things," Victor tapped two fingers on the chair. "I want you t' step the fuck down. You're too old an' frankly, things need a shake up."

"And if I won't?"

Victor let out a dry chuckle. "D' ya really have t' ask what will happen? Or maybe...maybe a visual cue is all y' need." He nodded to one of the men who opened the door as footsteps sounded in the hallway.

Bobby's hands gripped the chair and he turned his head, his eyes wide at the sight of Jack being carried into the room. Angel let out a rough sound behind him, horrified by the sight of the severely beaten body. Victor smirked. "Thank you, Luke. Put 'im right there," he nodded, indicating a spot only a few feet away from Bobby.

Luke dropped Jack to the carpet, his body hitting the ground with a thud. Jack made a feeble moan and curled up into an awkward ball, his hands cuffed in front of him, his limbs twitching. His face was a mess of dried blood, fresh blood, black and blue bruises. His lips were split in three places, both eyes black. Blood trickled down over his ears and neck. His shirt was bloody, his jacket as well.

Only Angel's hand kept Bobby from leaping out of the chair. Bobby swallowed, his face pale. "Jack...The fuck did you do t' him?"

"Me? Why, nothin' at all, in fact." Victor shrugged. "Well, I might've slapped his face a little, but he was rude, an' bein' rude jus' ain't acceptable. Luke had t' discipline him a coupla times."

"You sick, fucking prick," Bobby breathed, his voice a mere whisper. "He had nothin' t' do with me and you."

Victor snorted. "On the contrary, Bobby, he has an awful lot t' do with us."

Luke nudged Jack, who moaned again, the sound pitiful. "Wake up, kid. Look who came t' see you."

Jack opened one swollen eye. He peered up at Bobby, shaking violently. "B-Bobby," he managed, attempting to smile. "Knew you'd...you'd..." he clutched at his chest, a low sob emerging.

Bobby snarled and looked at Victor, absolute fury blazing in his eyes. "You...."

Victor grinned. "Me, indeed. I got two problems right now. One is that I seem t' be missin' a few men. Word on the street is that you did it. That's not ok. An' two, is that you still haven't agreed t' step down."

"What I did, you brought down," Bobby moved forward in his chair, shaking off Angel's hand. "You started this, Victor!"

"Oh no, no, see you started this when y' took over for Chris, when y' systematically wiped out the other gangs till no one was standin' but you an' anyone too scared to run!" Victor sneered at him. "What this is...with him.." he pointed to Jack. "This was vengeance an' t' make a point. See, you had this comin'."

"An' stealin' him was your answer?!" Bobby shouted. "The fuck did Jack ever do t' you? You nearly killed Lucy, you tortured my Jack! And I know, oh I fuckin' know you were behind Evelyn Mercer's death! I know it, I know it like I know my name!"

"Funny you should mention names," Victor waved his hand. "I gotta ask you somethin'. Lil' Jack here, he's actually real important. T' both of us. Did you ever get his last name, hm?"

Bobby growled, Angel's fingers digging into his shoulder. "Don't change the subject, you fuckin' bastard."

Jack made a small sound on the floor, his eyes closed. "Don't..." he pleaded.

"Why, you don't recognize him?" Victor leaned forward. "You don't recognize him, do you? Amazin', after all these years...well I guess he woulda been so little, maybe he woulda looked different then, but that don't matter much in the end. Point is, I remember, oh yeah, I remember a lot from back then."

"What the fuck are you babblin' about?" Bobby huffed. He badly wanted to reach out and scoop Jack up, to cradle his broken body in his arms.

Jack covered his ears, his fingers and wrists bruised and bloodied as well, deep gouges from the handcuffs on each hand, dangling from each wrist and coated in blood. "No, God no..."

"You always did like settin' shit on fire. Tell me somethin' Bobby, did you know everyone was inside when ya set up them fire bombs? Did you know that little Jackie here was playin' outside?"

Bobby stilled, his body numb. "....What...."

Jack lifted his head, eyes wide, his mouth open to take shallow breaths. Victor nodded slowly. "Oh yeah, the Donnelly's never took great care with their kids. Did ya take Jack outside? Couldn't live with bein' a baby killer? Did you know how many people were inside?"

"He..." Bobby looked at Jack, his eyes gleaming with something unrecognizable. "Your name..."

Victor clapped his hands. "Jack Donnelly...See, now if I was gonna fuck the kid of my rival, I would do a fuckin' background check, Bobby. Good advice for the future. An' now you get t' tell dear little Jackie why you murdered his family."

Jack held his head, shaking all over. "Oh my god....no, NO! Tell me it wasn't you!" he screamed, his ragged voice startling them all. "Tell me you didn't! He's lyin', he's lyin'! Tell me, tell me!"

Bobby's mouth worked several times, no words coming to his defense. He looked away as Jack broke into great sobs. "I didn't know..." he whispered finally.

Victor smiled proudly. "Bobby...don't y' see what you do t' people? You destroy them in the end. Anyone that loves you, dies in the end. Your own mama didn't even want you, lovely Miss Evelyn, she took pity on ya, an' look what happened t' her. Wrong place, wrong time," he added with a devilish grin and a wink. "Your lil' maid, nearly dead, Jackie...well can't imagine, he's gonna wanna stick around knowin' you murdered his whole family an' left him t' grow up a fucking...._stray_...like you. An' that lovely housekeeper, she's alone right now, ain't she?"

Angel moved his hand, aiming his pistol at Victor. "You shut your fuckin' mouth."

Victor stood and walked around the desk, his smirk daring Bobby to let Angel fire. "Anythin' bad, it was you. Anythin' Jack shoulda had, y' removed it. An' here you are...cause of you, he's all broken now," he looked down at Jack's frame, watching his shoulders shudder from sobs. "Broke 'im, without even layin' a hand on him. Bravo," he clapped his hands again, mockingly. "Oh bravo. Even I would have t' try harder t' do that."

He was up on his feet, leaning in to Victor's space, his eyes narrowed to furious slits. "Do you have any idea what I'm gonna do t' you?" he hissed. "Malcolm would slit y' throat if he knew what you were doin', a bitch is what y' are, takin' out people from a distance, good people, ones not like you an' me." He lifted his hand from his pocket, a gun clasped in his palm.

"Go ahead," Victor laughed. "Y' an' your attack dog an' your precious Jack, y're outnumbered. Ya think for one second my men won't protect me?"

Bobby fisted his hand in Victor's sweater, snapping him forward with a bitter laugh. "Y' stand alone, Victor. You'll never have what it takes t' be like me. An' this....this is for my mother," he said, pressing his gun to Victory's stomach. He fired, the blast of the gun echoing in the room.

Jack cried out and clutched his hands to his ears, badly panicked. Victor looked down at his stomach, blood seeping out over the white fabric. He shook, his mouth falling open. "Shoot him! The fuck y' waitin' for!" he gasped, clasping a hand over the middle of his stomach.

Bobby turned and fired, the next bullet driving deep into Luke's shoulder. He fell back with a grunt, tripping over Jack. Angel aimed his gun at Luke, disgust curling his lips. He fired, sending a bullet into Luke's forehead. He waved his gun at the men by the door, both watching him in absolute silence.

Bobby took a step back, a twisted smile on his lips. "They won't protect you, Victor. They don't respect you, they don't fear ya. You're a weakling, the kind that takes out old ladies an' young boys. You're pathetic."

"You..." Victor darted desperate looks to the men by the door, to Luke's body on the floor and then back at Bobby. "You son of a whore!"

"Oh keep goin'," Bobby placed his gun on Victor's shoulder, his thumb resting on the trigger.

Victor sobbed out a cry of pain, another bullet driving deep into his shoulder. He slumped back against his desk, shaking. Bobby loomed over him. "I want you t' know somethin' before I burn this place t' the ground," he whispered. "Malcolm was twice the man y' could ever even dream of bein'. I respected him. You coulda been great, Sweet. Now you're jus' a waste."

He backed up and fired once more, the bullet striking Victor's left kneecap. He let his arm drop to the side, relishing the screams of pain in front of him. "Get the fuck outta here 'less you wanna burn with him," he said to the men.

"Mercer..." one said, his skin a sickly gray color. "We got guys that wanna leave."

"We'll see." Bobby turned away, leaving Angel to herd them from the room. Ignoring Sweet, Bobby knelt beside Jack. He crouched down, moving a section of Jack's dirty hair back from his forehead. "Jackie," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Jack cringed back from him. "Don't you fuckin' touch me."

Bobby swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment. He let out a shaky breath and grabbed his lighter from his pocket as Angel returned, a gas can in hand. "Douse him," he said, his voice rough.

Angel upended the gas can over Victor and his desk, Victor choking and gasping on the blood and gas that covered him. He tossed the canister to the side and picked Jack up, cradling the too thin, abused body to his chest. He backed up from Bobby, his grip leaving Jack unable to fight. Jack slumped against him, tears sliding down his cheeks still.

Bobby flicked the lighter, letting it kiss the edge of Victor's sweater. "Good bye, Victor. I'll see ya in Hell."

Victor shrieked, the flames racing up his sweater, catching fast. His screams followed them out of the room and down the hall. Bobby walked beside Angel, his face blank once more. Jack shuddered. He looked like a stranger.

X


	21. Chapter 21

Title: Strays 21/22

Author: veiledndarkness

Pairing: Bobby/Jack

Rating: R

Summary: What's it all worth when you're alone?

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.

Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.

**Please be advised that this story does contain language which may offend some readers.**

X

Fowler stared at the inferno that raged a few hundred feet away from them, mouth agape. "Jesus, fuckin' A," he blinked, watching the flames shoot up into the sky. "When he makes a point, he sure makes a point."

"You could say that," Green leaned back against his cruiser. He held a cell phone in one hand, his shoulders slumped. "Victor Sweet's legacy is gone."

"If there's anythin' left in that inferno to identify him with that is," Fowler muttered. The screeching sirens of firetrucks filled the air. The men stood at the side of the road, watching solemnly as the firefighters fought back at the thick black smoke and raging flames. "Only question is where the kid is."

"No way would Bobby burn that place down if Jack was in it. Even if the kid was dead. Man cares way too much t' do that." Green spit on the snow crusted pavement and got into the car, suddenly wearied by the frantic chase they'd given to get to Victor's home before Bobby, only to find the building engulfed in a fireball. He only wished he could say he was surprised. He shook his head. "C'mon, rookie. We still got ends t' tie up here."

Fowler opened the car down and sat down as well, rubbing a gloved hand over his head. "So where does this leave us? We got the proof that Jack..."

"We don't got nothin'," Green stuffed his phone into his pocket.

"The hell we don't...At the very least Jack's blood is sprayed across that warehouse..."

Green spared him a glance, his mouth a tight grimace. "No, we don't. All that blood jus' says yeah Jack was there an' injured at some point. No prints other than Jack's, no prints in the house but Victor an' his men, no proof, no evidence. Bobby never leaves prints behind. He's got Jack with him, bet m' life on it. This was revenge," he jerked a thumb at the fire. "Victor had this comin'. Not many people on the street gonna mourn his ass."

"Ain't that the fucking truth," Fowler let out a sigh. "So, now what? We pretend we don't know shit 'bout Bobby blazin' a path of revenge through Sweet's life?"

Green stared out the window of the car, silent. Fowler heaved another disgusted sigh and started the car.

"Unreal."

"Street justice," Green murmured. "S' all it ever was."

X

Bobby sat by the bed, his back stiff and straight in the uncomfortable hospital chair. A machine beeped beside him, monitoring each heartbeat of Jack's. Bobby rubbed his thumb along his palm, his face a mask of calm. He breathed out, listening to the steady beeps, a horrible urge to scream clawing at the back of his throat.

A faint whimper came from Jack as he shifted on the bed, heavily dosed with painkillers. He made soft sounds in his sleep, his injured hands clenched in loose fists. Bobby watched the flickers of pain crease Jack's face, feeling sick each time he laid eyes on the bruises that covered much of Jack's skin. He cracked his knuckles, fresh rage simmering. Killing Victor hadn't rid him of his anger completely.

Jack let out a soft sound and shifted once more, seemingly unable to find a comfortable sleeping position. There was hardly a spot on him that wasn't covered with bruises, scraps and cuts. Even now, with all the blood cleared from his skin, the horrible colors were truly sickening. Jack had been beaten within a inch of his life, many times over.

"Bobby, y' still be awake?" Em's voice floated over to Bobby as she entered the private room.

"There's not a chance I'll leave him here by himself," Bobby lifted his head to look at her, his face weary. "Angel's waitin' t' take you on home."

She shook her head and clucked her tongue as she approached him. "Boss man, y' need t' sleep, boy. Jackie, he be safe here. Lucy girl, she's safe too."

"No," he said flatly. "Not leavin' till he's discharged."

Em touched a hand to Jack's hair, a small grimace to her lips at the gritty, dirty feel. "Coulda washed the blood outta him hair betta, they coulda," she sniffed. "Get 'im home, clean him up real good." She sighed. "Ahh, Jackie boy, faced the devil, y' did. S' a miracle y' got 'im out, Bobby."

Bobby snorted. "Miracle..." He rested his head to his hand, his elbow wobbling from exhaustion on the arm of the chair. "He was half dead, they fractured his ribs, beat the fuck outta him...y' see a miracle in all this?"

"He breathin', Bobby," Em stroked Jack's bruised cheek with the gentlest touch of her fingers. Jack pressed against her touch in his sleep, the whisper quiet whimpers of pain fading away. "He breathin' an' your mama, she stepped in, she helped this boy, yes she did. Protected 'im till you found your boy. Y' say your blessin's many times over, be grateful, thankful that y' found 'im."

Bobby swallowed and looked away. "Em...You don't know the whole story. Jack...He, he was, do you remember some of the gangs b'fore?"

Em crossed herself and nodded. "My son, t' bullet in 'im came from Ninth street, those devils in the night, they burn for what they did t' my boy. He was a good boy," she wiped at her eyes with one hand. "I miss him so..."

"Jack, his last name is Donnelly, Em."

A flash of recognition gleamed in her eyes. "No."

Bobby nodded. "Yeah. I killed his family, Em. I burned them all, every last one. I took his men an' destroyed the family. 'Cept for Jack. Because of me...because of me, Jack has no family," he trailed off, choking on the words. "He ain't comin' home with us, y' bet on that, Em."

"If he got no home, no family, he stay wit' us," she whispered, making no effort to wipe the tears that fell. "Y' make it right with 'im. He been through hell again, y' make things right, Bobby, y' hear me, boy? Him needs a family."

"Em..."

She leaned over and touched Bobby's cheek as well, touching the stubbled skin. He could feel the strength in her fingers. He lowered his head to her palm, silent misery pouring from him. "No 'Em's' outta y', boy. Y' listen t' God, listen t' y' Mama's words in y' heart, an' do what's right."

He nodded, breathing slow to keep his emotions under control. She pressed a motherly kiss to his forehead, then one to Jack's cheek. "Y' sleep, boy. Sleep an' pray."

"I will..."

X

Jack sat in the hospital bed a few days later, playing with the bendy straw that came with his water. He seemed to tense as Bobby walked into the room. He glanced at him and then away, his face carefully blank. "Em was jus' here, you missed her."

"She's with Lucy right now." Bobby walked over to the bed side, his hands in the pockets of his long wool coat. "The doctor says Lucy might be discharged not long after you. She's doin' better, much better now."

"Great."

Bobby hid a wince. Jack's voice was pure ice. "She was askin' 'bout you, wantin' t' be sure you were still alive."

"I'll see her soon," Jack mumbled. He looked at the straw in his lap and hunched his shoulders up. "Look...Bobby..."

"Don't...let's...let's get you home, ok? We can talk or whatever back there. Not here though. Walls have ears here."

Jack huffed out a empty chuckle. "Home..." He flicked his finger over the edge of the straw. "Uh huh."

Bobby sat down in the chair beside the bed. "We got a lot t' talk about, I think."

"Betcha y' were the brightest in school, weren't you?"

Bobby caught his look, understanding the raging mix of emotions that were clear in Jack's eyes. "Dropped out when I was twelve or so, actually. Mom didn't try puttin' me back in. She taught me herself."

Jack nodded, breaking the eye contact. "Em fussed over me, pretty much forced me t' eat until I thought I was gonna barf."

"She was worried sick about you. We all were."

Jack stared down at the straw and shrugged. They sat in silence for a few minutes, neither wanting to speak, both wanting to say something...anything. "The doctor said I could go today, they're dischargin' me this afternoon."

"Yeah....yeah, I know," Bobby murmured. "Jack...please, come back with us t' the house."

"Why?"

Bobby leaned forward. "Because I care, cause I want y' safe in case anyone gets any ideas of retaliatin'."

Jack sniffed a little, his voice uneven. "That's all?"

"What else...I don't understand," Bobby frowned.

"Never mind," Jack rubbed at his face tiredly. "Fine. I'll come back...for now. Maybe I'll stay, maybe not."

Bobby's frown deepened. "Alright. I'll arrange for my driver t' pick us up. We'll have you outta here in no time."

"Ok..." Jack curled up on the bed, his back to Bobby. He let out a breath and glanced back at him. Bobby held the look, a thousand desperate words on his lips, but he couldn't bring them forward. Jack shifted, closing his eyes.

Bobby sat for some time, just watching him pretend to sleep.

X

"Good God almighty, Em, will you relax," Jack huffed as he climbed the stairs, each step slow and measured. "I swear, I'm fine."

"Don't y' be takin' that tone wit' me, boy. Hurt or no, I'll smack y' head till it spins." Em glared at him. "Y' slow down or so help ya."

Jack sighed and nodded, waiting for Em to join him on the stairs. "I'm not made of porcelain," he grumbled. "Between you an' Bobby..."

"Hush boy, Boss man as worried as me, he don't show it, but he ain't been well a day since they took ya," Em put one arm around Jack's waist, steadying him up each stair. "Not sleepin', him head pains, barely eatin', he ain't no good w'out you."

Jack gritted his teeth. "Uh huh." He rested against her. Just climbing the stairs winded him to be honest. Once in his room, he sank down to the bed, grateful to be on the soft mattress once more. Bobby hovered in the doorway, watching them both. Em patted Jack's head, smoothing his hair.

"Em, I wanna talk t' Jack."

She stilled and turned to the side. "Yessir," she said under her breath. "Y' rest up, Jackie. M' gonna make somethin' special for ya, y' wait an' see."

Jack offered her a small smile. "Thanks, Em."

She ruffled his hair and walked away. As she passed Bobby, she whispered under her breath. "Hurt 'im an' I'll hurt ya, boy."

Bobby's lips quirked in mild amusement. "I promise." She eyed him, nodded once and walked out of the room.

Jack picked at the blanket on his bed, alone once more with Bobby. He rubbed his fingers along the thick covers. He swallowed and stood up slowly. "M' gonna rest for a bit. Thinkin' of leavin' in a few days."

"Don't leave like this."

"I can leave however the fuck I want t'," Jack snapped. "Y' don't own me."

Bobby narrowed his eyes at him. "No, I don't own anyone. But what I would like is a little respect, a little courtesy."

Jack waved one hand a little, the other clasped to his chest, the movement stealing his breath. "You fuckin' hypocrite. I got nothin' t' say to you."

"Why didn't you tell me, Jack? Huh? Why hide y' name from me?" Bobby demanded suddenly, his eyes dark.

"Why?" Jack laughed. The sound was ugly and bitter. "Why? Cause all my life, every fuckin' time I turned around, there was someone waitin' t' say somethin' about my name! They'd say horrible shit t' me all the time, mockin' me and then...then they'd do what they wanted t' do. Whenever I wasn't treated like a fucking leper, that is!"

Bobby stared back at him. "You assume I'm like some snot nosed punks that don't know street respect?"

"No, but I learned a long time ago that my name meant nothin' good. Not that I can remember my family, t' even know if they were good. You made sure of that."

Bobby flinched. There was no denying what he had done all those years before.

Jack ran a hand through his messy hair, his fingers and wrists still splotched with ugly bruises. "I'm not a Donnelly," he said, his voice rough. "I'm a street rat. Pretty sure my father woulda been upset t' see his kid end up like me. I never woulda measured up, I'm not cut out for any of the shit y' do, this gang stuff makes me feel sick! I'm not a Donelly, I'm just..." his voice broke, a few tears running down his bruised cheeks. "I'm just...Jack."

"You're not just Jack," Bobby swallowed over the aching lump in his throat. He took a few steps closer to Jack, his anger receding with each passing moment. Jack looked broken, a fragile slip of the smart mouth boy he'd stumbled over only a few weeks before.

Jack took a step back from him, blue eyes wide and flashing with anger. "Don't you fuckin' touch me! I hate you! I hate you so goddamn much for takin' them away from me! I can't hardly remember them an' you took that from me! You made me a fuckin' stray."

"They would have turned you into somethin' not far offa Victor," Bobby snapped. "You woulda been a gang banger, like him, like me. Do you wanna know what your fuckin' father was really like? He was a sick bastard! He loved hurtin' people."

"You're lyin'!" Jack grabbed the glass of water off the bed stand and whipped it at him blindly. "Shut up, shut the fuck up!" he shouted, the glass grazing Bobby's shoulder and falling harmlessly to the thick carpeting beneath him.

"Jack, listen t' me," Bobby took another cautious step towards him. "He wasn't a good guy, I swear t' you, he wasn't. Everythin' good in you woulda been twisted t' be like him, they were all like that, the whole family."

Jack bared his teeth at him, his cheeks flushed. "Fuck you!" he hissed. "You're no better, you try an' act better, but you're no different, no, not even you with your fuckin' pity handouts and collectin' people off the streets like it'll make the fact that you're a _**murderer**_ any better!" He balled his fists, his shoulders hitching. "You're no better, Bobby Mercer, you hear me? No goddamn better!"

Bobby looked to the side, the words cutting him deeply. "I'm so sorry, Jack...So sorry..."

"Sorry I found out?" Jack took a big step towards Bobby, unafraid of him in that moment. He wanted to hurt him, make him feel some of what he himself felt. "Sorry that now I know the truth?"

"I was sixteen, Jack." Bobby lifted his head, catching his gaze. "Sixteen. Too young t' stop an' think about the consequences of what I was about t' do. I took Christopher Donnelly and most of his gang out. I wanted t' run the streets, I wanted control of everythin'."

Jack's hand flashed out, wicked fast, slapping him and rocking Bobby's head to the side. "Y' selfish prick!"

Bobby swallowed and looked at him, the red prints on his cheek a bright stain of color, marking him. "I don't deny that, Jack. I did what I did cause I wanted t'. Street justice ain't like regular justice. I saw what he was doin' an' knew I could do it better."

Jack wiped at a tear that spilled over his cheek. He turned away from Bobby, sniffling a little. "Did you...was Sweet lyin'? Did you put me outside?"

"You were outside already," Bobby whispered hoarsely. "Early evenin', 'fore he sent his guys out t' work the drug corners assigned. You were playin' down the street, had a ball with ya. You were little, nothin' but big eyes an' a mop of hair. I saw you, knew you were his cause of the eyes."

Jack cringed and covered his mouth with one shaking hand. Bobby licked his dry lips and sighed. "I set up what I needed t', and started the flames, keepin' a eye out for you, in case. You were half a street away. I waited not far away, watchin' the building go up in flames. Jerry made the call t' the cops, pre-arranged so they wouldn't show till it was too late."

"You knew...an' you still burnt it down," Jack mumbled.

"Yeah....yeah, I knew." Bobby touched the hand print of his cheek, tracing the marks that stung white hot with the force of Jack's slap. "You got his eyes, I saw them eyes flash at me before, years ago. Chris hated me almost as much as Victor did. I didn't think 'bout what would happen...I figured the cops would give ya a good home or somethin'."

Jack spun away from him and wiped at his face with the back of his hand. "You make me sick."

"...Jack, don't go like this."

"Like I got any reason t' stay?" Jack grabbed his jacket off the bed, the material lovingly sewn back up and washed by Em. "You think anythin' you say t' me will make me wanna stay now? I ain't your goddamn dog or...whore!" He turned around, his eyes red rimmed with tears. "Because of you, I got nowhere else t' be."

Bobby closed his eyes. He was silent for a long moment. He nodded once. "I'll get my guy t' drive you anywhere you wanna go. I'll set up an account for you, t' access for whatever you need, I don't wanna find out you froze in some gutter," he said, his words bone dry, emotionless.

"I don't want your money." Jack threw the coat to the ground. "I don't need y' fuckin' pity, ok? I can get by on my own, jus' like always, Bobby! Fuck you! Fuck your money! You think y' can throw money at a problem or put them under ice when things don't go your way? Y' can't buy me!"

A tear rolled down Bobby's cheek, stopping Jack's hateful rant. Bobby breathed in, nearly silent. "I never wanted t'. First time I ever found a guy who wanted me for me, an' not the money or power... first guy I ever felt love for..." he wiped at the tear. "I'd take it all back in a fucking second, if it meant not hurtin' you."

"Damn you," Jack whispered. He closed the distance between them, breathing hard. "Damn you for makin' me feel like this, for doin' this t' me, an' I can't even walk away, knowin' how y' feel..." he slid his hands up Bobby's cheeks, cupping his face. "I wanna hate ya so damned bad...but I can't, can't hate you when y' make me feel so good," he murmured, kissing him.

Bobby let out a rough sound and pressed into the kiss, giving in completely. He parted his lips, letting Jack control the moment and reveling in the feel of the mouth on his. He shivered, circling his arms around Jack gingerly, wary of hurting him.

"Say it again, say it like y' mean it," Jack nipped his lip, stealing another kiss.

Bobby closed his eyes, sighing with pleasure at the sweet touch of Jack's lips. "I do...I wanted t' tell you, fell so fuckin' hard, it scares me."

"You? Scared?" Jack murmured, rubbing his fingers into Bobby's hair, rubbing small circles on his scalp. "Don't believe you'd be scared of lovin' someone."

"People I love get hurt," Bobby leaned against him, nearly purring as the tension melted from his head. "If I love you...I might lose y'."

Jack smiled sadly, resting his forehead to Bobby's. "Stupid," he said affectionately.

Bobby held him as if he'd disappear. "Jack...about your family. I swear, I'll keep apologizin' till the end of the world."

"Not now...don't wanna talk about it right now." Jack pressed a kiss to his hair. "Just...hold me."

X


	22. Chapter 22

Title: Strays 22/22

Author: veiledndarkness

Pairing: Bobby/Jack

Rating: R

Summary: What's it all worth when you're alone?

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.

Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.

**Please be advised that this story does contain language which may offend some readers. **

X

Under a thick layer of new snow, the house stood before him, as large and imposing as ever. Smoke puffed from the various chimneys across the roof. He rubbed his gloved hands together impatiently, as his car pulled up the long driveway, inching forward. With a sigh, he watched the curtains twitch in the window closest to the front doors. Had to be Lucy, he'd bet his last dollar on that.

He waved to the driver once the vehicle stopped, indicating for him to enter the garage off to the side. The snow crunched under his boots and his breath puffed little clouds over his head. He climbed the stairs to the front door and as he reached his hand to knock, the door opened a crack.

Angel stood at the doorway, his eyes narrowed. "Jeremiah."

"Yeah," Jerry tipped his head back and smiled slightly. "He called, I didn't show hopin' for good."

"Uh huh, y' think I don't know that?" Angel nodded his head at the gates in the distance. "You think anyone comes close t' here after everythin' recent?"

Jerry's smile faded away. "Got me there. Angel...We ain't close, but..."

"Never gonna be neither. You ain't my brother."

"We coulda been," Jerry murmured with some regret. "Sure we coulda."

Angel grunted and turned away, opening the door as he moved. "Don't piss him off, Jerry. S' all I'm gonna say."

Jerry stayed silent. He spotted Lucy in the distance, a flick of long, dark hair before she disappeared around the corner. The house was warm, of course, the scent of fresh food being prepared not far away. Music drifted out of the kitchen, Em's low voice singing along. Jerry's lips quirked. He'd missed this.

Bobby's office door stood ajar an inch or so. Jerry paused by the doorway, hesitant to enter. A chuckle caught his attention and he took a step back as Jack crossed the carpet in the room, his movements stiff. He flopped into the chair closest to Bobby's desk, sprawled across the fabric of it. An unlit cigarette hung from two fingers.

"...c'mon, you're gettin' that pissy, pinch-y look on y' face again," Jack said and Jerry swore he could hear the grin in Jack's words. "You need t' relax more."

"Stop distractin' me or I'll put you in your room."

"You could come with me t' my room."

"Brat," Bobby muttered, though he didn't sound cross to Jerry. He wrinkled his nose. Picturing Bobby like that wasn't high on his list. He knocked on the door quickly.

"In..." Bobby looked up from his desk, a smooth mask on his face. "Jerry."

Jerry glanced at Jack and then to Bobby, slipping his hat off with one hand. "Yeah, I made it. Snow's pilin' up fierce out there."

Jack sat up a little, favouring one leg as he did so. He palmed the lighter from his pocket and flicked the lid, lighting his cigarette. He took a drag and watched Jerry take a seat near him. Bobby leaned back in his chair, silent, composed and completely blank. It was unnerving to say the least. Jerry tugged his gloves off, doing his best not to fidget.

"I'm willin' t' bet you were shocked to see me callin', especially after the past few weeks," Bobby began, his words low as always, almost too quiet. "Seein' as I'm no fool, I decided t' think long an' hard about things. I found that almost losin' everything brings your life into perspective, don't ya think?"

Jerry wet his dry lips and nodded. "Sure.."

Jack blew out a small smoke ring, his foot twitching. Jerry forced his attention on Bobby, sweat gathering along his temples. The room was unbearably hot under Bobby's fixed stare. Bobby waited a moment and then blinked, the lightest of smiles curving his mouth.

"Do you know what woulda happened if Jack hadn't been saved?"

"Bobby, I..."

"No, don't give me excuses, Jeremiah, I ain't interested in excuses."

Jerry took a small breath and nodded once more. "Yeah I know what woulda happened. Bobby, when I talked t' Victor, he didn't seem like he was gonna..y' know.."

"Gonna destroy the people in my life?" Bobby smirked. "Or kill me? You really didn't know? Pity t' you then. You always figured you were the brains of this operation. Were you thinkin' maybe you'd help Victor an' slip into my shoes after I was floatin' till spring?"

Jerry shook his head. "Never. I been with you all these years, Bobby. I never once thought of doin' that!"

"Maybe I am a fool, but I think I believe you."

Jack snorted, a small chuckle escaping from him. He took another drag off the cigarette, the last traces of bruising marring his face still. The bruises were faded, yellowish along the edges. "Y' no fool, Bobby," he said under his breath. His lips quirked in a smirk that bordered on a smile. "You're a lotta things, but you aren't no fool."

The smile came and went on Bobby's face, a softening towards Jack before he resumed the cold, polite mask at Jerry. "Should I believe you?"

"When we met up, I knew y' were different, Bobby. I knew I was seein' somethin' different, something great. All I ever wanted was the same as you," Jerry gripped the hat and gloves in his hands. "I trust you, as much as I trust Camille or God t' keep his eyes on us an' know we doin' the best that we can in this life. I never wanted t' hurt you or...or replace you. I didn't mean no harm t' Jack neither."

Jack flinched, wounded blue eyes on Jerry. "The hell did I ever do t' you?"

"Jack..." Bobby caught his eyes, a silent conversation flowing between the two of them for a moment. "Don't."

"When Victor asked 'bout Jack, I knew he was on t' you already, Bobby. He had someone tailin' you. Hell, he probably did long b'fore you found Jack." Jerry darted a look to Jack, wincing. Jack looked like a kicked dog, wounded and angry. "It wouldn't have mattered who it was, even if it had'a been Bil-"

"Don't you say his name!"

Jerry caught his breath at the fury in Bobby's eyes. "I..." he swallowed. "Sorry. My point is, Victor woulda taken anyone, even Em t' make his point. I'm jus' sorry it was Jack who got the brunt of it all."

"Your connection t' Sweet brought this fucking destruction on my family, on my home!" Bobby hissed, anger contorting his face. "Tell me why you shouldn't be dead as well."

"You're as good as blood t' me. We ran the streets, you an' me!" Jerry sat upright, gesturing to the room. "Everythin' in here, your whole fucking life, my life, all this came from us, Bobby! Us! Me an' you. Y' might sit on the throne, but you wouldn't be here w'out me, Mercer! I **never** played for Sweet, I tol' you how things were with him. I warned y' time an' time again. You're fallin' apart, Bobby, s' no wonder the young thugs wanna take over."

Bobby's throat worked, anger simmering still in his eyes. "Not while I breathe." He clenched his hands and relaxed them.

"Bobby, y' need me. I need you. We can run shit like we did, like we always have. It doesn't hafta be like this."

The room was silent but for Jack's whisper quiet exhales and inhales. Bobby clenched his jaw and nodded tersely. "I gotta say, y' make a strong case, Jeremiah. You coulda been one helluva lawyer."

Jerry raised his eyebrow a little. "Don't know 'bout that. Playin' devil's advocate may not be a strong suit for me."

"If there's one thing I don't need, it's lectures on my...personal business," Bobby glanced at Jack, who blushed faintly. "If I have y' back here, no comments, no threats or warnin's, I don't need you tellin' me shit like that. Clear?"

"I don't care what y' do in your bedroom. I jus'..." Jerry sighed heavily. "I jus' didn't wanna see you be hurt by 'nother punk who got too close. No offense, Jackie."

Jack eyed him. "None taken," he said, flicking his cigarette over the ashtray on Bobby's desk.

"Jack is not a subject of conversation," Bobby snapped. "He doesn't concern you, kinda like how I don't give a shit 'bout your whore."

"She's not a whore, Bobby." Jerry glared at him. "She never was. Y' leave her outta all this."

Bobby paused for several seconds and smiled thinly. "Uh huh. She's only involved if somethin' happened t' Jack, that's what I said. And Jerry? I meant it. Every word. Jack is my li-...in my house now, an' his safety comes first."

Jerry exhaled a slow breath. Knowing when to back down was essential when dealing with Bobby. "Agreed. An' business?"

"We'll discuss that tomorrow." Bobby tented his fingers, his forehead furrowed. "Call Evan. I wanna meet with him soon. We got a lotta shit t' go over now that Victor's gone."

Jerry nodded. "You got it, Bobby." He stood up and slipped his hat back on. He turned to face Jack, slipping his gloves on as well. "You rest up, kid. Take it easy."

Jack flicked his cigarette and offered him a hint of a smile. "Sure. You too."

With a stiff back, Jerry left the room, relief flooding him. He grinned at Angel and dipped his head at him. "S' gonna get better, you wait an' see."

X

Jack waited until Jerry was gone to move from the chair. He limped a bit, making his way to Bobby slowly.

"Well that was fun. Y' looked ready t' rip him apart." He sat on the edge of the desk, a hand to his chest.

"Easy, Jack, you're pushin' too hard lately," Bobby frowned at him. "The doctor said you need t' go slow for now. Those ribs don't need rough handlin'."

Jack stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, chuckling. "Nag, nag, fuss fuss." He shifted closer to Bobby. "I feel ok most days. Still stiff in the leg, an' chest hurts sometimes. It's been weeks, I ain't made of glass or nothin'. M' ok, Bobby. Y' can see that I am."

Bobby rested his hand on Jack's arm, worry etched on his face. "I see you, I see everythin' about you."

"You were gonna say somethin' else before. What was it?"

"Nothin'..." Bobby ran his thumb over Jack's wrist, tracing the bruising that lingered on his skin. "S' nothing."

Jack leaned down and rested his forehead to Bobby's, smiling. "Uh huh, I don't believe y' though. I heard what you almost said, Mr. Mercer."

"Brat," Bobby muttered affectionately. "You're my...my life, ok? There, ya happy?"

"Thrilled," Jack shifted down, kissing him gently. "Say it again."

Bobby nipped Jack's lip. "My life," he whispered, feeling warm as he said it out loud.

Jack laughed and kissed him again. He rested his head to Bobby's shoulder, his fingers slipping into the soft hair. He rubbed slow circles, holding him close. "That as close to a 'love you' as I'll get with you?"

"Jackie..." Bobby closed his eyes, shivering under the pressure of Jack's fingers. "I...I..." he sighed, unable to get the words out right.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Jack murmured. He pressed a kiss to Bobby's neck. "You're my life now too."

As Jack held onto Bobby, he stared out the window behind them, watching the snow fall. He held on tighter, feeling Bobby's arms move around him. He smiled, relaxing to the now familiar touch, to the smells and sounds of a warm house, to the people around him, to the family they'd created from a group of strays.

"My life..."

X

And that is the conclusion of 'Strays'. Thank you to all those who reviewed, to the complaints and compliments. I enjoy and appreciate hearing from everyone :)


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